THE     LAMP 
AND  THE  BELL 

A  Drama  in  Five  Acts 
By  EDNA  ST.  VINCENT  MILLAY 


NEW  YORK 

FRANK    SHAY 

1921 


COPYRIGHT,  1921  by  FRANK  SHAY 
(All  Rights  Reserved) 


Applications  for  permission  to  produce  THE  LAMP  AND 

THE  BELL  must  be  made  to  FRANK  SHAY, 

Four  Christopher  Street,  New  York 


THE  LAMP  AND  THE  BELL 

Written  on  the  occasion  of  the  Fiftieth  Anniversary 

of  the  Founding  of  the  Vassar  College  Alumnae 

Association 

Dedicated  to  '1917' 


LORENZO,  King  of  Fiori 
MARIO,  King  of  Lagoverde 
Gumo,  Duke  of  Versilia,  Il 
legitimate  Nephew  to  Lor 
enzo 

GIOVANNI 
•Luici 
ANSELMO 


Gentlemen 

at  the  Court 

of  Lorenzo 


RAFFAELE 
•FiDELio,  Jester  at  the  court 

of  Lorenzo 
GIUSEPPE,     Agent    for    the 

Duke's  estates 

CESCO  )      Townsmen 

HORATIO      >        of  Fiori 
BEPPO,  a  little  boy,  son  to 
GUILIANA 


I  Little  boys  sons 
>      to  Leonora 


RlGO 

Louis 

CLERK 

MESSENGER 

OCTAVIA,    Lorenzo's    second 

wife 
BEATRICE,      "Rose-Red," 

daughter  to  Lorenzo  by  a 

former  marriage 
BIANCA,     "Snow-White," 

daughter  to  Octavia  by  a 

former  marriage 


Julia  Lovejoy  Cuniberti  '11 
Valeria  Knapp  '20 


Louisa  Brook  Jones  '07 
Katherine  Jones  '20 
Muriel  Izard  '17 
Lucia  Cole  Waram  '01 
Eleanor  Kissam  '20 

Geneva  Harrison  '20 

Eleanor  Fatman  Morgen- 

thau  '13 

Gertrude  Taylor  Watkins  '07 
Lucille  Stimson  Harvey  '09 

Marcelle  Furman  New- 
burg  '19 

Ruth  Delepenha  '17 
Emily  Gallagher  '21 
Lucy  Madeira  Wing  '96 
Esther  Saville  Davis  '06 

Montgomery  Cooper  '09 


Clifford  Sellars  '21 


Lois  Duffie  '20 


483  iii.* 


LAURA 
CARLOTTA 

FRANCESCA 

VIOLA  Ladies  at 

LILINA  L  the  Court  of 

LELA  Lorenzo 

ARIANNA 

CLAUDIA 

CLARA 

LUCIA 

GRAZIA,    Nurse    to    Beatrice 

and  Bianca 

GIULIETTA,  servant  to  Bianca 
"LITTLE  SNOW-WHITE" 
"LITTLE  ROSE-RED" 
LEONORA      "^ 
GIULIANA 


CLARA 
GIOVANITTA 

ANNA 


Townsmen 
of  Fiori 


girl, 


Frances  Stout  Kellman  '17 
Kathleen  Millay  Young, 

ex-  '21 

Dorothy  Comstock  '19 
Lillian  White  '18 
Caroline  Goodrich  '16 
Sylvia  Brockway  '20 
Margaret  Hughes  '18 
Janet  Lane  '18 
Jeanette  Baker  '18 
Ellen  Hasbrouck  '15 

Eleanor  Ray  Broeniman  '99 

Virginia  Archibald  '17 

Gretchen  Tonks 

Joy  Macracken  '36 

Catherine  Barr  '20 

Mabel  Hastings  Humpstone 
'94 

Olive  Remington  '19 

Caroline  Curtis  Johnson  '83 

Frances  Haldeman  Sid- 
well  '84 

Helen  Hoy  Greeley  '99 


Ruth  Benedict  '20 
Maiserie  MacCracken  '31 
Edith  Ward 


EUGENIA 

ELEANORA,    a   little 

daughter  to  Leonora 
GILDA,  a  little  girl,  sister  to 

Beppo 

ADELINA,  Another  little  girl 
NURSE 
PIERROT  ^j 

HARLEQUIN          c     „. 
PANTALOON     trolling 

POLICHINELLO   \    &**" 
COLOMBINE         J 

Courtiers,  Ladies-in-Waiting,  Soldiers,  Pages,  Musicians, 
Towns-people,  Children 


PROLOGUE 

[Anselmo  and  Luigi] 

ANSELMO.  What  think  you, — lies  there  any 

truth  in  the  tale 

The  King  will  wed  again? 
LUIGI.  Why  not,  Anselmo? 

A  king  is  no  less  lonely  than  a  collier 
When  his  wife  dies,  And  his  young  daughter  there, 
For  all  her  being  a  princess,  is  no  less 
A  motherless  child,  and  cries  herself  to  sleep 
Night  after  night,  as  noisily  as  any, 
You  may  be  sure. 

ANSELMO.  A  motherless  child  loves  not, 

They  say,  the  second  mother.    Though  the  King 
May  find  him  comfort  in  another  face, — 
As  it  is  well  he  should — the  child,  I  fancy, 
Is  not  so  lonely  as  she  is  distraught 
With  grief  for  the  dead  Queen,  and  will  not  lightly 
Be  parted  from  her  tears. 
LUIGI.  If  tales  be  true, 

The  woman  hath  a  daughter,  near  the  age 
Of  his,  will  be  a  playmate  for  the  Princess, 
c  URTAIN 

ACT  I 

Scene  1 

[Scene:  A  garden  of  the  palace  at  Fiori;  four 
years  later.] 

[Discovered  seated  Laura,  Francesca  and  Fidelio,  Laura 
embroidering,  Fidelio  strumming  his  flute,  Francesca  lost 
in  thought.] 

LAURA.  You, — Fool !  If  there  be  two  chords  to  your 
lute, 

7 


8  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Give  us  the  other  for  a  time! 

FRANC ESCA.  And  yet,  Laura, 

I  somewhat  fancied  that  soft  sound  he  made. 

'Twas  all  on  the  same  tone, — but  'twas  a  sweet  tone. 

LAURA.     Tis  like  you.    As  for  myself,  let  music  change 

From  time  to  time,  or  have  done  altogether. 

Sing  us  the  song,  Fidelio,  that  you  made 

Last  night, — a  song  of  flowers,  and  fair  skies, 

And  nightingales,  and  love. 

FIDELIO.  I  know  the  song. 

It  is  a  song  of  winter. 

LAURA.  How  is  that? 

FIDELIO.     Because  it  is  a  song  of  summer  set 

To  a  sad  tune. 

FRANCESCA.     [Sadly]  Ah,  well, — so  that  it 

be  not 

A  song  of  autumn,  I  can  bear  to  hear  it. 

LAURA.     In  any  case,  music.     I  am  in  a  mood  for 
music. 

I  am  in  a  mood  where  if  something  be  not  done 

To  startle  me,  I  shall  confess  my  sins. 

[Enter  Carlotta.] 

CARLOTTA.     Ha!     I  will  have  that  woman  yet  by  the 
hair! 

LAURA.     What  woman,  pray,  Carlotta? 

CAR.  Ho!     What  woman! 

Who  but  that  scullery-wench,  that  onion-monger, 

That  slatternly,  pale  bakress,  that  foul  witch, 

The  coroneted  Fish-Wife  of  Fiori, 

Her  Majesty,  the  Queen! 

FRA.  Hush— hush— Carlotta ! 

You  could  be  put  to  death  for  less  than  that! 

CAR.     Not  I,  my  duck.    When  I  am  put  to  death 

'Twill  be  for  more!     Oh,  I  will  have  her  yet 

By  the  hair!     [For  the  first  time  noticing  Fidelio.] 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  9 

Fidel io,  if  you  breathe  one  word 
Of  this,  I  will  scratch  the  Princess  into  ribbons, 
Whom  you  love  better  than  your  wit. 
FID.  I'  faith, 

I  did  but  hear  you  say  you  are  a  fish-wife, 
And  all  the  world  knows  that. 
LAU.  Fear  not,  Carlotta, 

He  is  as  dumb  as  a  prophet.    Every  second  word 
He  utters,  eats  the  one  before  it.    Speak, 
But  softly. 

CAR.  Nay,  'tis  nothing. — Nay,  by  my  head, 

It  is  a  townf ul !    'Tis  the  way  she  has 
Of  saying  "that  should  be  done  like  this,  and  this 
Like  that"!    The  woman  stirs  me  to  that  point 
I  feel  like  a  carrot  in  a  stew, — I  boil  so 
I  bump  the  kettle  on  all  sides! 
LAU.  My  dear, 

Were  you  as  plump  as  I  you  would  not  dare 
Become  so  angry.    It  would  make  your  stays  creak. 
CAR.     Well,  I  am  done.    Fidelio,  play  me  a  dirge 
To  put  me  in  good  spirits.     Merry  music 
Is  sure  to  make  me  sad.     [Fidelio  plays.    Pause.  [ 
CAR.  'Tis  curious 

A  woman  like  her  should  have  a  child  like  that — 
So  gentle  and  so  pretty-mannered.    Faith, — 
FID.     Hush!     Hush!     Here  come  the  prettiest  pair  of 
t  birds 

That  ever  sat  together  on  a  bough  so  close 

You  could  not  see  the  sky  between.    How  now, 

Snow- White  and  Rose- Red!     Are  you  reconciled 

One  to  another? 

[Enter  Beatrice  and  Bianca,  with  their  arms  about  one 

another.] 

BIA.  Reconciled,  Fidelio? 

We  had  not  quarrelled!     [Laughter  from  Fidelio  and 

the  ladies.] 


10  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

BEA.  Do  not  listen  to  him, 

Bianca,  'tis  but  the  jingling  of  his  bells. 

FIDELIO.     Do  you  make  a  better  jest  than  that 

At  once,  or  have  the  clappers  cut  from  them. 

FID.     Alas,  alas, — all  the  good  jests  are  made. 

I  made  them  yesterday. 

CAR.  If  that  be  true, 

You  would  best  become  a  wise  man  for  a  time, 

My  friend, — there  are  plenty  of  wise  words  not  yet 
said! 

FID.     I  shall  say  them  all  tomorrow. 

LAU.  If  you  do, 

You  will  be  stoned  to  death. 

FID.  Not  I.    No  one 

Will  hear  me. — Well,  I  am  off. — I  know  an  old  man 

Who  does  not  know  the  road  runs  past  his  house; 

And  yet  his  bees  make  honey.     [Exit  Fidelio.] 

CAR.  [Looking  after  him.]  'Tis  the  one  wise 

fool 

We  have  among  us. 

[Enter  Grazia.] 

GRA.  Oh,  here  you  are,  my  ducklings! 

Always  together,  like  a  beggar  and  a  flea ! 

I  looked  for  you  at  lunch-time;  I  forget  now 

What  for;  but  then  'twas  a  matter  of  more  weight 

Than  laying  siege  to  a  city, — la,  how  time 

Does  carry  one  on!     An  hour  is  like  an  ocean, 

The  way  it  separates  you  from  yourself! — 

[To  Bianca  and  Beatrice.}  What  do  you  find  to  talk 
about  all  day? 

BEA.     We  do  not  talk  all  day. 

CAR.  Nay,  tis  you,  Grazia, 

That  talk  all  day. 

BEA.  We  ride,  and  play  at  tennis, 

And  row  on  the  lake — 

GRA.  I  know  who  does  the  rowing! 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  11 

BEA.     Nay,  not  by  any  means!     Bianca  rows 
Nearly  as  well  as  I. 
CAR.  And  do  you  ride 

Nearly  as  well  as  she,  Bianca?     [All  smile.] 
BIA.     [Ruefully.]  Nay. 

GRA.     Tis  an  unkind  question.    There  be  few  in  Fiori 
Might    answer,    "Aye."      Her   Highness   rides    like   a 
centaur. 

BIA.     I'd  never  dare  to  mount  the  horse  she  rides. 

BEA.     What,  Harlequin? — La,  he's  gentle  as  a  kitten! 

Though  he's  a  little  young,  'tis  true,  not  settled  yet 

In  his  mind. 

LAU.  As  to  his  mind,  'twere  a  small  matter, 

Were  he  a  bit  more  settled  in  his  legs! 

BIA.     I'm  afraid  of  horses,  anyway,  they  are  so  much 

Bigger  than  I  am. 

BEA.  Oh,  Bianca,  horses 

Are  just  like  people!     Are  you  afraid  of  father? — 

He  is  bigger  than  you. 

BIA.     Nay.    But  I'd  never  dare 

Prod  him  which  way  to  go ! 

BEA.  Oh,  la,  I  would! 

Father,  this  ditch!    This  four-foot  wall  now,  father! 

And  swim  the  brook  beyond! 

FRA.  And  is  there  naught 

In  which  Bianca  carries  off  the  trophies? 

BEA.     [Ruefully.]     Ay,  there  is  tennis. 

LAU.  She  wins  from  you  at  tennis? 

BEA.     She  flays  me,  Laura.    She  drags  me  at  her  racket 

Nine  times  around  the  court! 

CAR.  Why,  how  is  that?— 

She  is  not  quicker. 

BEA.  Nay,  but  she  grows  cool 

Whilst  I  grow  hot,  Carlotta,  and  freezes  me 


12  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Ere  I  can  melt  her ! 

FRA.  Is  it  true,  Bianca? 

BIA.     'Tis  true  I  win  from  her. — Although  not  always. 

GRA.     What  did  I  come  here  for? — I  must  go  back 

To  where  I  started,  and  think  of  it  again!  [Exit 
Grazia.] 

CAR.  [Calling  after  her.]  Are  you  sure  that  you  re 
member  where  you  started? 

The  woman  hath  a  head  like  a  sieve. 

LAU.  And  yet, 

You  may  be  sure  'tis  nothing  more  than  the  thimble 

Of  the  matter  she's  forgotten.    I  never  knew  her 

Mislay  the  thread  or  the  needle  of  a  thing. 

BIA.     We  must  study  now,  Beatrice,  we  really  must. 

We  have  not  opened  a  book  since  yesterday. 

LAU.     La,  as  for  me,  I  have  not  opened  a  book 
Since  yesteryear, — Fd  rather  open  a  vein! 

CAR.     Lessons, — troth,  I  remember  well  those  lessons. 
As  for  what  I  learned, — troth,  that's  a  different  matter, 

FRA.     'Tis  curious;  the  things  that  one  remembers 
Are  foolish  things.    One  does  not  know  at  all 
Why  one  remembers  them.    There  was  a  blackbird 
With  a  broken  foot  somebody  found  and  tamed 
And  named  Euripides! — I  can  see  it  now. 

CAR.     Some  of  the  silly  rhymes  we  used  to  write 
In  the  margins  of  our  books,  I  still  remember! 

LAU.     And  eating  sweets  behind  the  covers  of  them! 

FRA.     And  faces — faces — faces — and  a  little  game 
We  used  to  play,  all  marching  in  a  row 
And  singing! — I  wish  I  were  a  child  again. 

BEA.  You  are  not  old,  Francesca.  You  are  very 
young. 

And  very  beautiful ! 

FRA.  I  have  been  beautiful 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  13 

Too  many  years  to  be  so  very  young. 
CAR.     How  now,  Francesca!     Would  you  have  it  said 
You  are  enamoured  of  some  beardless  youth, 
That  so  you  see  the  wrinkles  suddenly? 
Have  done!     Have  done! 
BIA.  Where  shall  we  study,  Bice? 

BEA.     Indoors.    I  cannot  study  out  of  doors.     [Exeunt 
Beatrice  and  Bianca.] 

LAU.     I  vow  I  never  knew  a  pair  of  lovers 
More  constant  than  those  two. 

CAR.  A  pair  of  lovers? 

Marry,  I  find  your  figure  lacking  force! 
Since  when  were  lovers  true? 

FRA.  Oh,  peace,  Carlotta! 

You  bear  too  sharp  a  weapon  against  the  world, — 
A  split  tongue  full  of  poison,  in  a  head 
That  darts  at  every  heel! — I'm  going  in.     [Exit  Fran 
cesca.] 

LAU.  You  should  not  say  such  things  when  she  is  with 
us,  Carlotto. 

CAR.  Is  the  woman  in  love? 

LAU.  In  love! 

She  is  so  far  gone  she  does  not  know  which  way 

To  sail, — all  shores  are  equally  out  of  sight.  [Exeunt 
Laura  and  Carlotta.] 

[Music  off  stage.    Enter  Fidelio,  singing.] 

FID.     "What  was  I  doing  when  the  moon  stood  above? 
What  did  I  do?    What  did  I  do? 

I  lied  to  a  lady  that  had  given  me  her  love, — 
I  swore  to  be  true!    I  swore  to  be  true!" 

[He  picks  up  from  the  grass  a  white  scarf  which  Beat 
rice  was  wearing,  and  which  slipped  from  her  shoulders 
unnoticed  as  she  went  out.] 

FID.     My  mistress!      [He  thrusts  the  scarf  under  his 


14  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

cloak  and  continues  his  song,  just  as  Guido  enter  from 
another  direction.] 

FID.  "And  what  was  I  doing  when  the  sun  stood 
above? 

What  did  I  do?    What  did  I  do?—" 

GUI.  By  my  sacred  word,  Fidelio, 

I  do  not  like  your  song. 

FID.  Faith,  and  small  wonder! — 

It  is  a  song  that  sets  the  evil  eye 

To  staring  in  upon  itself. 

GUI.     [Stopping  in  his  walk.]  What  mean  you 

By  that,  my  throaty  friend? 

FID.  I  mean  to  say 

That,  taking  it  all  in  all  and  by  and  large, 

You  do  not  care  for  music. 

GUI.  I  do  not  care 

For  yours,  but  it  is  possible  Apollo 

Had  a  better  tenor  .  I  never  heard  him  sing. 

FID.  Nay,  and  how  could  you? — He  died  when  you 
were  born! 

GUI.     He  died,  that  is,  in  giving  birth  to  me? 

FID.     Aye,  if  you  like, — you  bear  as  much  resemblance 

To  him  as  to  your  mother's  husband,  surely. 

GUI.     Take  care,  Fidelio! 

FID.     [Lightly.]  So!    Then  it  angers  you 

Apollo  should  be  deemed  your  sire!     I  told  you 

[Sadly.] 

You  did  not  care  for  music ! 

GUI.  You  are  a  sly  fool, 

My  merry  friend.    What  hide  you  under  the  cloak? 

FID.     Why,  'tis  a  little  patch  of  snow  the  sun 

Would  lay  too  hot  a  hand  on. 

GUI.  By  my  life,— 

And  what  are  you  that  you  can  keep  the  sun 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  15 

From  shining  where  it  will? 

FID.  Why,  by  your  life, — 

And  a  foul  oath  it  is! — why,  by  your  life, 

I  am  a  cloud, — that  is  an  easy  riddle. 

Scene  2 

[Scene:  A  garden  with  a  fountain,  at  Fiori.  Beat 
rice  and  Bianca  sitting  side  by  side  on  a  low  step. 
Evening.} 

BEA.     How  beautiful  it  is  to  sit  like  this, 
Snow- White, — to  think  of  much,  and  to  say  little. 
BIA.     Ay,  it  is  beautiful.    I  shall  remember 
All  my  life  long  these  evenings  that  we  spent 
Sitting  just  here,  thinking  together.     [Pause. ,]     Rose- 
Red, 

It  is  four  years  today  since  first  we  met. 
Did  you  know  that? 
BEA.  Nay,  is  it? 

BIA.  Four  years  today. 

I  liked  you  from  the  moment  that  I  saw  you, 
Beatrice ! 

BEA.  I  you,  Bianca.    From  the  very  moment ! 

I  thought  you  were  the  prettiest  little  girl 
That  I  had  ever  seen. 
BIA.  I  was  afraid 

Of  you,  a  little,  at  first, — you  were  a  Princess, 
You  see.    But  you  explained  that  being  a  Princess 
Was  much  the  same  as  anything  else.     'Twas  nice, 
You   said,   when   people   were   nice,   and   when   they 
were  not  nice 

'Twas  hateful,  just  the  same  as  everything  else. 
And  then  I  saw  your  dolls,  and  .they  had  noses 
All  scratched,  and  wigs  all  matted,  just  like  mine, 
Which  reassured  me  even  more! — I  still,  though, 
Think  of  you  as  a  Princess;  the  way  you  do  things 
Is  much  more  wonderful  than  the  way  I  do  them! — 


16  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

The  way  you  speak  to  the  servants,  even  the  way 
You  pick  up  something  that  you  drop. 
BEA.  You  goose! 

'Tis  not  because  I'm  a  princess  you  feel  that  way — 
I've  always  thought  the  same  thing  about  you! — 
The  way  you  draw  your  gloves  on  is  to  me 
More  marvelous  than  the  way  the  sun  comes  up! 
[They  both  burst  out  laughing.] 
BEA.     Oh,  hid, — how  droll  we  are! 
BIA.  Oh,  I  shall  die 

Of  laughing!     Think  you  anyone  else,  Rose-Red, 
Was  ever  half  so  silly? 
BEA.  I  dare  wager 

There  be  a  thousand,  in  this  realm  alone, 
Some  even  sillier! 

BiA.  Here  comes  Fidelio!      [Enter  Fidelio.] 

BEA.     Fidelio,  sing  to  us, — there  is  no  nightingale 
Abroad  tonight,  save  you.     And  the  night  cries 
For  music! 

BIA.  Sing,  Fidelio! 

FID.  I  have  no  thorn 

To  lean  my  breast  on.     I've  been  happy  all  day, 
And  happiness  ever  made  a  crow  of  me. 
BEA.     Sing,  none  the  less, — unless  you  have  a  cold, 
Which  is  a  singer's  only  rock  of  refuge. 
You  have  no  cold,  or  you  would  not  be  happy. 
So  sing. 

FID.     [Singing.]     "Oh,  little  rose-tree,  bloom! 
Summer  is  nearly  over. 

The  dahlias  bleed  and  the  phlox  is  seed, 
Nothing's  left  of  the  clover, 

And  the  path  of  the  poppy  no  one  knows, — 

I  would  blossom  if  I  were  a  rose! 

Summer  for  all  your  guile 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  17 

Will  brown  in  a  week  to  autumn, 
And  launched  leaves  throw  a  shadow  below 

Over  the  brook's  clear  bottom, 
And  the  chariest  bud  the  year  can  boast 
Be  brought  to  bloom  by  die  chastening  frost! 
Oh,  little  rose-tree,  bloom!" 

[As  he  finishes  the  song  Fidelia  goes  out,  softly  strum 
ming  the  last  chords.  Bianco,  and  Beatrice  did  sit  quite 
still  for  a  moment.] 

BIA.  Do  you  know  what  I  am  thinking,  Bice? 

BEA.  You're  wondering  where  we'll  be  ten  years 
from  now, 

Or  something  of  that  nature. 

BIA.  Ay,  I  was  wondering 

Which  would  be  married  first,  and  go  away, 

And  would  we  still  be  friends. 

BEA.  Oh,  do  you  doubt  it, 

Snow-White? 

BIA.  Nay,  nay, — I  doubt  it  not,  my  dear, — 

But  I  was  wondering.     I  am  suddenly  sad, 

I  know  not  why.    I  do  not  wish  to  leave  you 

Ever. 

BEA.  I  know.     I  cannot  bear 

To  think  of  parting.  We  have  been  happy  these  four 
years 

Together,  have  we  not? 

BIA.  Oh,  Beatrice!     [She  weeps.] 

BEA.     Nay,  do  not  weep ! — Come,  you  must  go  to  bed. 
You  are  tired  tonight.    We  rode  too  far  today. 
[She  draws  Bianca's  head  down  to  her  shoulder.] 
Oh,  you  are  tired,  tired,  you  are  very  tired. 
You  must  be  rocked  to  sleep,  and  tucked  in  bed, 
And  have  your  eyelids  kissed  to  make  you  dream 
Of  fairies!     Come,  dear,  come. 

BIA.  Oh,  I  do  love  you, 


18  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Rose-Red!     You  are  so  sweet!     Oh,  I  do  love  you 

So  much! — so  much!     I  never  loved  anyone 

The  way  that  I  love  you!     There  is  nobody 

In  all  the  world  so  wonderful  as  you! 

[She  throws  her  arms  about  Beatrice  and  clings  to  her.] 

Scene  3 

[A  room  in  the  palace  at  Fiori.  Lorenzo  and  Beatrice 
playing  chess.  Twilight.] 

LOR.     You'll  not  be  able  to  get  out  of  that, 
I  think,  my  girl,  with  both  your  castles  gone. 

BEA.     Be  not  so  sure! — I  have  a  horse  still,  father, 
And  in  a  strong  position :  if  I  move  him  here, 
You  lose  your  bishop;  and  if  you  take  my  bishop, 
You  lose  your  queen. 

LOR.  True,  but  with  my  two  rooks 

Set  here,  where  I  can  push  them  back  and  forth, 
My  king  is  safe  till  worms  come  in  and  eat  him. 
BEA.     What  say  you  then  to  this? — Will  you  take 
this  pawn, 

Or  will  you  not? 

LOR.  [Studying  the  board.]  Od's  bones! — where 
did  that  come  from? 

[Enter  Octavia.] 

OCT.  La,  would  you  lose  your  eyesight,  both  of 
you? — 

Fumbling  about  those  chessmen  in  the  dark? 

You,  Beatrice,  at  least,  should  have  more  wit! 

LOR.  "At  least" — hm! — Did  you  hear  her  say,  "at 
least," 

Bice,  my  daughter? 

BEA.  Ay.    But  it  is  true 

The  twilight  comes  before  one  knows  it. 

LOR.  Ay. 

'Tis  true,  but  unimportant.     Nevertheless, 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  19 

I  am  a  tractable  old  fellow. — Look  you, 

I  will  but  stay  to  map  the  lay  of  the  pieces 

Upon  this  bit  of  letter.     Tis  from  a  king 

Who  could  not  tell  the  bishop  from  the  board, — 

And  yet  went  blind  at  forty. — A  little  chess 

By  twilight,  mark  you,  and  all  might  have  been  well. 

[Enter  Bianca.] 

BIA.     Oh, — I've  been  looking  everywhere  for  you? 

OCT.     [Drily.]     For  me? 

BIA.  Nay,  mother, — for  Beatrice.     Bice, 

The  rose  is  out  at  last  upon  that  bush 

That  never  blossomed  before, — and  it  is  white 

As  linen,  just  as  I  said  'twould  be! 

BEA.  Why,  the  bud 

Was  redder  than  a  radish! 

BIA.  Ay,  I  know. 

But  the  blossom's  white,  pure  white.  Come  out  and 
see! 

[Politely.]     Would  you  like  to  see  it,  mother? 

OCT.  Nay,  not  now,  -child. 

Some  other  time. 

BEA.  Father,  we'll  end  the  game 

Tomorrow;  and  do  you  not  be  scheming  at  it 

All  night! 

LOR.  Nay,  I  will  not  unfold  the  chart. 

BEA.     But  you  remember  well  enough  without; 

Promise  me  not  to  think  of  it. 

LOR.  I'  faith, 

You  are  a  desperate  woman.  Ay,  I  promise.  [Exeunt 
Bianca  and  Beatrice.  Octavia  seats  herself.  Pause.] 

OCT.     I  tell  you,  as  I've  told  you  often  before, 

Lorenzo,  'tis  not  good  for  two  young  girls 

To  be  so  much  together ! 

LOR.  As  you  say, 

Octavia.    For  myself,  I  must  confess 


20  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

It  seems  a  natural  thing,  enough,  that  youth 
Should  seek  out  youth.    And  if  they  are  better  pleased 
Talking  together  than  listening  to  us, 
I  find  it  not  unnatural.    What  have  we 
To  say  to  children? — They  are  as  different 
From  older  folk  as  fairies  are  from  them. 
OCT.     "Talking  together,"  Lorenzo!     What  have  they 
To  talk  about,  save  things  they  might  much  better 
Leave  undiscussed? — you  know  what  I  mean, — lovers, 
And  marriage,  and  all  that — if  that  is  all! 
One  never  knows — it  is  impossible 
To  hear  what  they  are  saying;  they  either  speak 
In  whispers,  or  burst  out  in  fits  of  laughter 
At  some  incredible  nonsense.    There  is  nothing 
So  silly  as  young  girls  at  just  that  age. — 
At  just  Bianca's  age,  that  is  to  say. 
As  for  the  other, — as  for  Beatrice, 
She's  older  than  Bianca,  and  I'll  not  have  her 
Putting  ideas  into  my  daughter's  head! 
LOR.     Fear  not,  my  love.     Your  daughter's  head  will 
doubtless, 

In  its  good  time,  put  up  its  pretty  hair, 

Chatter,  fall  dumb,  go  moping  in  the  rain, 

Be  turned  by  flattery,  be  bowed  with  weeping, 

Grow  grey,  and  shake  with  palsy  over  a  staff, — 

All  this,  my  love,  as  empty  of  ideas 

As  even  the  fondest  mother's  heart  could  wish. 

OCT.     You  mock  me,  sir? 

LOR.  I  am  but  musing  aloud, 

As  is  my  fashion. — And  indeed,  my  dear, 

What  is  the  harm  in  lovers-and-all-that 

That  virtuous  maidens  may  not  pass  the  time 

With  pretty  tales  about  them? — After  all, 

Were  it  not  for  the  years  of  looking  forward  to  it 

And  looking  back  upon  it,  love  would  be 

Only  the  commonest  bird-song  in  the  hedge, — 

And  men  would  have  more  time  to  think, — and  less 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  21 

To  think  about. 

OCT.  That  may  be.     But  young  girls 

Should  not  be  left  alone  too  much  together. 
They  grow  too  much  attached.     They  grow  to  feel 
They  cannot  breathe  apart.    It  is  unhealthy. 
LOR.     It  may  be  true.    But  as  for  me,  whom  youth 
Abandoned  long  ago,  I  look  on  youth 
As  something  fresh  and  sweet,  like  a  young  green  tree, 
Though  the  wind  bend  it  double. — 'Tis  you,  'tis  I, 
'Tis  middle  age  the  fungus  settles  on. 
OCT.     Your  head  is  full  of  images.     You  have 
No  answers.    I  shall  do  as  I  spoke  of  doing, 
And  seperate  them  for  a  little  while, 
Six  months,  maybe  a  year.    I  shall  send  Bianca 
Away  within  a  fortnight.    That  will  cure  them. 
I  know.    I  know.    Such  friendships  do  not  last. 
CURTAIN 


ACT  II 

Scene  1 — Four  months  later. 

[Scene:  A  garden,  near  the  palace  at  Fiori.  The 
young  Duke  Guido  is  discovered  standing  with  one  foot 
resting  on  a  garden-bench,  looking  off,  lost  in  thought. 
Enter  Giovanni.'] 

Gio.     That  is  a  merry  face  you  wear,  my  Guido! 

Now  that  the  young  King  Mario  visits  the  court 

And  walks  all  morning  in  the  woods  with  the  Princess, 

Or  gives  her  fencing  lessons, — upon  my  word, 

You  are  as  gay  as  a  gallows! 

GUI.  She  is  never 

Alone  with  him.     Laura — Carlotta — someone 

Is  always  there. 

Gio.  Ah — ah — but  even  so, 

No  matter  who  is  there,  I  tell  you,  lovers 

Are  always  alone! 


22  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

GUI.  Why  do  you  say  these  things, 

Giovanni  ? 

Gio.  Because  I  love  you,  you  lean  wolf, 

And  love  to  watch  you  snuff  the  air.     My  friend, 

There  was  a  time  I  thought  it  all  ambition 

With  you,  a  secret  itching  to  be  king — 

And  not  so  secret,  either — an  open  plot 

To  marry  a  girl  who  will  be  Queen  some  morning. 

But  now  at  times  I  wonder.    You  have  a  look 

As  of  a  man  that's  nightly  gnawed  by  rats, 

The  very  visage  of  a  man  in  love. 

Is  it  not  so? 

GUI.  I  do  not  know,  Giovanni. 

I  know  I  have  a  passion  in  my  stomach 

So  bitter  I  can  taste  it  on  my  tongue. 

She  hates  me.    And  her  hatred  draws  me  to  her 

As  the  moon  draws  the  tide. 

Gio.  You  are  like  a  cat — 

There  never  was  a  woman  yet  that  feared  you 

And  shunned  you,  but  you  leapt  upon  her  shoulder! 

Well,  I'll  be  off.     The  prettiest  girl  in  Fiori,— 

Unless  it  be  Her  Highness,  waits  for  me 

By  a  fountain.     All  day  long  she  sells  blue  plums, 

And  in  the  evening  what  she  has  left  of  them 

She  gives  to  me!     You  should  love  simply,  Guido, 

As  I  do.     [Exit  Giovanni.] 

[Guido  sits  on  the  bench  and  drops  his  head  in  his 
hand.  Enter  Francesca.] 

FRA.     [Softly.]     Guido!     Guido! 

GUI.  Who  calls  me? 

FRA.  Guido! 

GUI.  Francesca!  Why  do  you  follow  me  here? — 
You  know 

I  do  not  wish  to  see  you! 

FRA.  Do  not  be  angry. 

Tis  half  a  week  since  you  have  spoken  to  me, 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  23 

And  over  a  week  since  you  have  so  much  as  laid 
Your  hand  upon  my  arm!     And  do  you  think, 
Loving  you  as  I  do,  I  can  do  without  you, 
Forever,  Guido,  and  make  no  sign  at  all  ? 
I  know  you  said  you  did  not  wish  to  see  me 
Ever  again, — but  it  was  only  a  quarrel — 
And  we  have  quarreled  before! 
GUI.  It  was  not  a  quarrel. 

I  am  tired  of  you,  Francesca.    You  are  too  soft. 
You  weep  too  much. 
FRA.  I  do  not  weep  the  less 

For  having  known  you. 

GUI.  So; — it  will  save  you  tears,  then 

To  know  me  less. 

FRA.  Oh,  Guido,  how  your  face 

Is  changed, — I  cannot  think  those  are  the  eyes 
That  looked  into  my  eyes  a  month  ago ! 
What's  come  between  us? 
GUI.  Nothing  has  come  between  us. 

It  is  the  simple  snapping  of  a  string 
Too  often  played  upon. 
FRA.  Ah! — but  I  know 

Who  snapped  it!     It  will  do  you  little  good 
To  look  at  her, — she'll  never  look  at  you! 
GUI.     Be   silent   a   moment! — Unless   you   would   be 
silent 
Longer ! 

FRA.  Indeed!    I  shall  speak  out  my  mind! 

You  go  beyond  yourself!     There  is  proportion 
Even  in  a  nature  like  my  own,  that's  twisted 
From  too  much  clinging  to  a  crooked  tree! 
And  this  is  sure:  if  you  no  longer  love  me, 
You  shall  no  longer  strike  me! 
MARIO.     [Off  Stage.]  Beatrice! 

Wait  for  me!    Wait! 
BEA.     [Off  stage.]  Not  I!    Who  does  not  run 


24  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

As  fast  as  I  run,  shall  be  left  behind  me! 

GUI.  They  are  coming  here!  I  do  not  wish  to  see 
them! 

FRA.  Oh,  Guido!  [She  follows  him  off.  Exeunt 
Guido  and  Francesco,.] 

[Enter  Beatrice,  running,  followed  by  Mario.] 

MAR.  Beatrice,  you  run  like  a  boy! 

You  whistle  like  a  boy!     And  upon  my  word, 

You  are  the  only  girl  I  ever  played 

At  jousting  with,  that  did  not  hold  her  sword 

As  if  it  were  a  needle!     Which  of  us, 

Think  you,  when  we  are  married,  will  be  King? 

BEA.     When  we  are  married!     Sir,  I'll  have  you  know 

There's  an  ogre  to  be  tamed,  a  gem  to  be  pried 

From  out  a  dragon's  forehead,  and  three  riddles 

To  be  solved,  each  tighter  than  the  last,  before 

A  Princess  may  be  wed! 

MAR.  Even  by  a  King? 

BEA.  For  Kings  the  rules  are  sterner! — One  more 
riddle, 

And  a  mirror  that  will  show  her  always  young. 

MAR.     And  if  I  do  these  things,  then,  will  you  have  me, 

Rose-Red? 

BEA.  Maybe.    And  if  you  do  not  do  them, 

Maybe.     Come — I  will  race  you  to  the  bridge! 

MAR.  [Catching  her  hand.]  Nay,  not  so  fast! — 
Have  you  no  wish  to  be 

Beside  me,  ever,  that  you  are  forever  running 

Ahead? 

BEA.  Indeed,  if  you  would  have  the  truth 

It  has  come  into  my  mind  more  times  than  once 

It  would  be  sweet  to  be  beside  you  often. 

MAR.     Rose-Red! 

BEA.  Come — I  will  race  you  to  the  bridge! 

[Exeunt  Beatrice  and  Mario.] 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  25 

Scene  2 

[Court-yard  of  the  palace  at  Fiori.  Entire  court  as 
sembled.  A  band  of  strolling  players,  with  a  little  stage 
on  wheels,  are  doing  a  Harlequinade  pantomime  to  amuse 
the  young  King  Mario,  the  guest  of  honor.  Beatrice  sits 
beside  him.  In  this  scene  the  two  people  who  are  oblivi 
ous  to  the  pantomime  are  Guido  and  Octavia.  Guido  is 
apparently  brooding  over  something.  From  time  to  time 
he  looks  at  Beatrice  and  Mario.  Once,  having  gazed  for 
some  moments  at  the  pair,  he  looks  at  Octavia  and  sees 
that  she,  too,  is  looking  at  them,  which  seems  to  satisfy 
him.  The  Queen  does  not  take  her  eyes  from  the  two  dur 
ing  the  entire  scene.  Beatrice  and  Mario  do  not  conduct 
themselves  precisely  as  lovers,  but  they  are  very  gay  and 
happy  to  be  in  each  other's  company,  apparently.  Lor 
enzo  watches  the  show  with  a  benign,  almost  childish 
interest.] 

[Pantomime  begins.] 

Gio.     You,  Pierrot,  are  you  not  a  little  thick 

For  such  a  sorrowful  fellow? 

PIERROT.  Nay,  indeed! 

Sorrow  may  come  to  all.    And  'tis  amazing 

How  much  a  man  may  live  through  and  keep  fat. 
[Pantomime  continues.] 

CAR.     Ho !  Now  he  stumbles !    Look  you,  Pantaloon, 

If  you  were  not  so  learned  i'  the  head 

You  might  know  better  where  to  put  your  feet! 

LAU.  [To  Carlotta.]  Tis  curious  how  it  addles  a 
man's  bones 

To  think  too  much. 

CAR.  Nay,  truth.    Wise  men  were  ever 

Awkward  i'  the  legs. 

[Pantomime  continues.] 

RAFFAELE.  Have  at  him,  Polichinello. 

Gio.     Lay  on!    Lay  on! 

ANS.  Leave  not  a  nail  of  him! 


26  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Gio.  Dog!  Would  you  have  him  write  a  book  about 
you? 

LUIG.     Spit  him  i'  the  liver!     It  is  his  only  organ! 

BEA.  [To  Mario.]  Nay,  it  is  cruel.  I  cannot  look 
at  it. 

MAR.     It  is  but  play. 

BEA.  Ay,  but  'tis  cruel  play. 

To  be  so  mocked  at! — Come,  take  heart,  good  Doctor! 

'Tis  a  noisy  fellow,  but  light  withal! — Blow  at  him! 

Gio.     [To  Guido.]     She  has  the  softest  heart  that  ever 

I  saw  , 

In  a  hard  woman.    It  may  be,  seeing  she  has  pity 

For  one  rogue,  she  has  pity  for  another! 

Mark  you,  my  Guido,  there  is  hope  yet! 

GUI.  Nay, 

There's  not.    I  have  opened  up  my  mind  to  her, 

And  she  will  none  of  me. 

Gio.     [Jestingly.]  That  was  the  last  thing 

You  should  have  done! — Speak, — did  she  give  for 
answer 

She  loves  the  King? 

GUI.  Not  she.    She  gave  for  answer 

She  does  not  love  the  Duke. 

[Pantomime  continues.] 

ANS.     [To  Colombine.]  Ah,  pretty  lady! 

CAR.     La,  she  is  fickle!     How  she  turns  from  one  face 
To  another  face, — and  smiles  into  them  all! 

FRAN.     Oh,  ay,  but  'tis  the  Pierrot  that  she  loves. 
[Pantomime  continues  and  comes  to  a  close.] 
[All  applaud.] 
LUIGI.     Well  done! 
ANS.  Bravo ! 

Gio.  A  monstrous  lively  play! 

BEA.     Oh,  is  it  over? — I  would  it  were  not  over! 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  27 

MAR.     And  yet  it  pleased  you  not! 

BEAT  When  it  pleased  me  not, 

I  looked  at  you. 

MAR.  And  when  I  pleased  you  not — ? 

BEA.     I  looked  at  Harlequin.     However,  I  saw  him 

But  fleetingly.    Pray,  was  he  dark  or  fair?          ^ 

LUIGI.     Laura! 

LAU.  Who  calls?    La,  it  is  only  Luigi! 

LUIGI.     Laura,  there'll  be  a  moon  tonight. 

LAU.  F  faith, 

There  was  a  moon  last  night.     [She  sighs.] 

LUIGI.  At  ten  o'clock, 

Were  I  by  a  certain  gate,  would  you  be  there? 

What  say  you? 

LAU.  Ay, — if  weariness  overtook  me, 

And  I  could  not  get  further! 

CAR.  La,  'tis  sun-down! 

[In  the  meantime  the  crowd  has  been  breaking  up  and 
dispersing.  The  curtain  falls  on  the  disappearing  specta 
tors  and  on  Pierrot  and  his  troupe  packing  up  their  wagon 
to  go  to  the  next  town.} 

Scene  3 

[Fiori.     A  garden  with  a  fountain.   Evening.} 

[Enter  Octavia  and  Ladies.} 

OCT.     It  would  amuse  me  if  I  had  a  lily 

To  carry  in  my  hand.    You  there,  Carlotta ! 

You  have  a  long  arm, — plunge  it  in  the  pool 

And  fish  me  forth  a  lily ! 

CLAUDIA.  Majesty, 

They  close  at  night. 

OCT.  Well — we  will  open  them. 

^   CAR.     [Going  to  pool  and  scanning  it.}     Go  to — I  am 
not  a  frog! 

OCT.  What  did  you  say? 


28  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

ARIANNA.     She  says  she  sees  a  frog.  Your  Majesty. 
FRAN.     [Aside  to  Carlotta.] 

You  are  mad!  Can  you  not  keep  your  tongue  in  your 
head? 

CAR.     Ay,  I  can  keep  it  in  my  cheek. — There's  one. 
God  grant  it  have  an  eel  at  the  end  of  it, — 
I'll  give  the  dame  good  measure. 
[While  the  ladies  are  at  the  pool  enter  Guido.] 
GUIDO.  Greeting,  madam! 

OCT.  Who  greets  me? — Ah,  it  is  the  Duke.  Good 
even,  Guido.  You  seek  an  audience  with  me? 

GUIDO.  Nay — nay — but  if  you  send  away  your 
women, — 

We  shall  be  more  alone. 

OCT.  [After  considering  him  a  moment.'}  You  may 
leave  me  now, 

Laura,  Francesca — all  of  you — and  you  would  best 
go  in 

At  an  early  hour,  instead  of  walking  the  gardens 

All  night;  I  would  have  you  with  your  wits 

About  you  in  the  morning. 

LAU.     [Aside.]  Oh,  indeed? 

You  would  best  go  in  yourself,  lest  the  dew  rust  you, 
You  sauce-pan!     [Exeunt  ladies.] 
OCT.     Now,  my  good  sir, — you  may  speak. 
GUI.     [As  if  by  way  of  conversation.]     It  is  a  long 
time,  is  it  not,  your  daughter 
Is  absent  from  the  court? 
OCT.  Why  say  you  that? 

GUI.     Why  but  to  pass  the  time,  till  she  returns? 
OCT.     Nay,  Guido.    That  is  well  enough  for  some, 
But  not  for  me.    I  know  the  slant  of  your  fancy; 
'Tis  not  in  that  direction. 
GUI.  Yet  me  thinks 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  29 

The  sooner  she  is  back  again  at  court 

The  happier  for  us  both. 

OCT.  "Us  both"?    What  "both"? 

GUI.     You  Madam,  and  myself. 

OCT.  And  why  for  me? 

GUI.     [Carefully.]     Why,  are  you  not  her  mother? 

OCT.  Hah!     [Pause.]     Guido, 

What  festers  in  your  mind?    Do  you  speak  out  now, 

If  you  await  some  aid  from  me. 

GUI.  Madam, 

I  have  but  this  to  say:  if  I  were  a  woman 

With  a  marriageable  daughter,  and  a  King  rode  by, 

I'd  have  her  at  the  window. 

OCT.  So.    I  thought  so. 

[With  an  entire  change  of  manner.] 

Guido,  what  think  you, — does  she  love  the  King, — 

I  mean  Lorenzo's  daughter? 

GUI.     [Between  his  teeth.]     Ay,  she  loves  him. 

OCT.     And  loves  he  her? 

GUI.  Oh,  ay.    He  loves  the  moon, 

The  wind  in  the  cypress  trees,  his  mother's  portrait 

At  seventeen,  himself,  his  future  children — 

He  loves  her  well  enough.     But  had  she  blue  eyes 

And  yellow  hair,  and  were  afraid  of  snakes, 

He  yet  might  love  her  more. 

OCT.  You  think  so,  Guido? 

I  am  content  to  learn  you  of  that  mind. 

There  had  occurred  to  me — some  time  ago, 

In  fact — a  similar  fancy.    And  already 

My  daughter  is  well  on  her  way  home. 

[Exeunt  Guido  and  Octavia.] 

[Music.  Enter  Beatrice  and  Fidelio.  Fidelio  strums 
his  lute  softly  throughout  the  next  conversation,  up  td 
the  words  "and  cease  to  mock  me."] 

BEA.  Fidelio, 


30  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Were  you  ever  in  love? 

FID.  I  was  never  out  of  it. 

BEA.     But  truly? 

FID  Well,  I  was  only  out  of  it 

What  time  it  takes  a  man  to  right  himself 

And  once  again  lose  balance.     Ah,  indeed, 

Tis  good  to  be  in  love.     I  have  often  noticed, 

The  moment  I  fall  out  of  love,  that  moment 

I  catch  a  cold. 

BEA.  Are  you  in  love,  then,  now? 

FID.     Ay,  to  be  sure. 

BEA.     Oh!     Oh!     With  whom,  Fidelio? 

Tell  me  with  whom! 

FID.  Why,   marry,  with  yourself, — 

That  are  the  nearest  to  me, — and  by  the  same  troth, 

The  farthest  away. 

BEA.  Go  to,  Fidelio! 

I  am  in  earnest,  and  you  trifle  with  me 

As  if  I  were  a  child. 

FID.  Are  you  not  a  child,  then? 

BEA.     Not  any  more. 

FID.  How  so? 

BEA.  I  am  in  love. 

FID.     Oh — oh — oh,   misery,   misery,   misery,   misery! 

BEA.     Why  do  you  say  that? 

FID.  Say  what? 

BEA.  "Misery,  misery." 

FID.     It  is  a  song. 

BEA.  A  song? 

FID.  Ay,  'tis  a  love-song. 

Oh,  misery,  misery,  misery,  misery,  oh! 

BEA.     Nay,  sweet  Fidelio,  be  not  so  unkind! 

I  tell  you,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  31 

I  am  in  love !     Do  you  be  mannerly  now, 
And  cease  to  mock  me. 

FID.  What  would  you  have  me  do? 

BEA.     I  would  have  you  shake  your  head,  and  pat 
my  shoulder, 

And  smile  and  say,  "Godspeed." 

FID.     [Doing  so  very  tenderly.]     Godspeed. 

BEA.     [Bursting  into  tears.]     I  do  not  know  if  I  am 
happy  or  sad. 

But  I  am  greatly  moved.     I  would  Bianca 

Were  here.     I  never  lacked  her  near  so  much 

As  tonight  I  do,  although  I  lack  her  always. 

She  is  a  long  time  gone.     — If  I  tell  you  something, 

Will  you  promise  not  to  tell. 

FID.  Nay,  I'll  not  promise, 

But  I'll  not  tell. 

BEA.  Fidelio,  I  do  love  so 

The  King  from  Lagoverde!     I  do  so  love  him! 

FID.     Godspeed,   Godspeed. 

BEA.  Ay,  it  is  passing  strange; 

Last  week  I  was  a  child,  but  now  I  am  not. 
And  I  begin  my  womanhood  with  weeping; 
I  know  not  why. — La,  what  a  fool  I  am! 
'Tis  over.    Sing,  Fidelio. 

FID.  Would  you  a  gay  song, 

My  Princess? 

BEA.  Ay. — And  yet — nay,  not  so  gay. 

A  simple  song,  such  as  a  country-boy 

Might  sing  his  country-sweetheart. — Is  it  the  moon 

Hath  struck  me,  do  you  think?     I  swear  by  the  moon 

I  am  most  melancholy  soft,  and  most 

Outrageous  sentimental!     Sing,  dear  fool. 

FID.     [Singing.] 


32  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

"Butterflies  are  white  and  blue 
In  this  field  we  wander  through. 
Suffer  me  to  take  your  hand. 
Death  comes  in  a  day  or  two. 
All  the  things  we  ever  knew 
Will  be  ashes  in  that  hour. 
Mark  the  transient  butterfly, 
How  he  hangs  upon  the  flower. 
Suffer  me  to  take  your  hand. 
Suffer  me  to  cherish  you 
Till  the  dawn  is  in  the  sky. 
Whether  I  be  false  or  true, 
Death  comes  in  a  day  or  two." 
C  URT AIN 


ACT    III 

Scene  I — The  following  summer. 

[A  field  or  meadow  near  FiorL    As  the  curtain  rises 
voices  are  heard  off-stage  singing  a  bridal  song.] 
SONG:     Strew  we  flowers  on  their  pathway! 

Bride   and   bride-groom,   go   you  sweetly. 
There  are  roses  on  your  pathway. 
Bride  and  bride-groom,  go  you  sweetly. 
Sweetly  live  together. 

[Enter  Viola,  Lilina,  Lela,  Arianna  and  Claudia, 
laden  with  garlands,  flowering  boughs  and  baskets  of 
flowers.  They  met  Anslemo  coming  from  another 
direction,  also  bearing  flowers.] 

Vio.  How  beautiful,  Anselmo!  Where  did  you  find 
them? 

ANS.     Close  by  the  brook. 

LIL.  You  gathered  all  there  were? 

ANS.     Not  by  one  hundredth  part. 

LEL.  Nay,  is  it  true? 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  33 

We  must  have  more  of  them! 

Am.  And  are  they  fragrant 

As  well? 

ANS.  Ay,  by  my  heart,  they  are  so  sweet 

I  near  to  fainted  climbing  the  bank  with  them. 

[The  ladies  cluster  about  Anselmo  and  smell  the 
flowers.] 

LIL.  Oh! 

Vio.  Ah! 

CLA.  How  drowsily  sweet! 

LEL.  Oh,  sweet! 

Am.  What  fragrance! 

[Enter  Laura  and  Giovanna,  folloived  by  Carlotta  and 
Raffaele.] 

LAU.     La,  by  my  lung!     I  am  as  out  of  breath 

As  a  babe  new-born!  Whew!  Let  me  catch  the  air! 
[She  drops  her  flowers  and  seats  herself  beside  them.] 

CAR.  [to  the  younger  ladies  and  Anselmo,  by  way 
of  greeting.] 

How  hot  the  sun  is  getting. 

ANS.  "Tis  nigh  noon, 

I  think. 

GlO.  'Tis   noon. 

CLA.  We  must  be  starting  back. 

LAU.     Not  till  I  get  my  breath. 

RAF.  Come, — I  will  fan  you.  [he  fans  her 

with  a  branch.] 

LAU.  'Tis  good — 'tis  very  good — oh,  peace — oh, 
slumber — 

Oh,  all  good  things!     You  are  a  proper  youth. 

You  are  a  zephyr.     I  would  have  you  fan  me 

Till  you  fall  dead. 

CAR.  I  tell  you  when  it  comes 

To  gathering  flowers,  much  is  to  be  said 


34  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

For  spreading  sheets  on  the  grass, — it  gives  you  less 

The  backache. 

LAU.  Nobly  uttered,  my  sweet  bird. 

Gio.     Yet  brides  must  have  bouquets. 

CAR.  And   sit   at  home, 

Nursing  complexions,  whilst  I  gather  them. 

LIL.  [Running  to  Carlotta,  along  with  Lela  and 
Viola,  and  throwing  her  arms  about  her.] 

Nay,  out  upon  you  now,  Carlotta!  Cease  now 

To  grumble  so, — 'tis  such  a  pretty  day! 

VlO.     And  weddings  mean  a  ball! 

LEL.  And  one  may  dance  all  night 

At  weddings! 

LIL.  Till  one  needs  must  dance  to  bed, 

Because  one  cannot  walk  there! 

Gio.  And   one   eats 

Such  excellent  food! 

ANS.  And  drinks  such  excellent  wine! 

CLA.  And  seldom  will  you  see  a  bride  and  bride 
groom 

More  beautiful  and  gracious,  or  whom  garlands 

Do  more  become. 

Gio.  Tis   so, — upon   my   sword! — 

Which  I  neglected  to  bring  with  me — 'tis  so, 

Upon  Anselmo's  sword! 

CAR.  Nay,  look  you,  Laura! 

You  must  not  fall  asleep!  [to  Raffaele]  Have  done, 
you  devil! 

Is  it  a  poppy  that  you  have  there?  [to  Laura]  Look 
you, 

We  must  be  starting  back!  [Laura  rouses,  then  falls 
back  again.] 

LAU.  Ay,  that  we  must. 

ARI.     Where  are  the  others? 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  35 

ANS.  Scattered  all  about. 

I  will  call  to  them.     Hola!     You  fauns  and  dryads! 

Where  are  you? 

VOICES.  Here!     Here!     Is  it  time  to  go? 

ANS.     Come   this   way!    We   are  starting  back! 

VOICES.  We  are  coming! 

We'll  come  in  a  moment!     I  cannot  bear  to  leave 

This  place! 

Gio.     [As  they  enter]     A  thousand  greetings,  Clara! 

Lucia,  a  thousand  greetings!    How  now,  Luigi! 

I  know  you,  man,  despite  this  soft  disguise! 

You  are  no  flower-girl! 

Lui.  I    am    a    draught-horse, 

That's  what  I  am,  for  four  unyielding  women! 

Were  I  a  flower-girl,  I'd  sell  the  lot 

For  a  bit  of  bread  and  meat — I  am  so  hungry 

I  could  eat  a  butterfly! 

CAR.  What  ho,   Franceses! 

I  have  not  seen  you  since  the  sun  came  up! 

FRA.  ,  .This  is  not  I, — I  shall  not  be  myself 

Till   it  goes  down! 

LEL.  Oh,  la,  what  lovely  lilies! 

FRA.     Be  tender  with  them — I  risked  my  life  to  get 
them! 

LIL.     Where  were  they? 

FRA.  Troth,  I  do  not  know.     I  think 

They  were  in  a  dragon's  mouth. 

LAU.     [suddenly  waking]  Well,  are  we  go 

ing?    [all  laugh.] 

Lui.     No  one  is  going  (that  cannot  go  afoot. 

I  have  enough  to  carry! 

LAU.  Nay,  take  me  too! 

I  am  a  little  thing.     What  does  it  matter — 

One  flower  more? 

Lui.  You  are  a  thousand  flowers, 

Sweet  Laura, — you  are  a  meadow  full  of  them — 

I'll  bring  a  wagon  for  you. 


36  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

CAR.  Come.     Come  home. 

[In  the  meantime  the  stage  has  been  filling  with  girls 
and  men  bearing  flowers,  a  multitude  of  people,  in 
groups  and  couples,  humming  the  song  very  softly. 
As  Carlotta  speaks  several  more  people  take  up  the? 
song,  then  finally  the  whole  crowd.  They  move  off 
slowly,  singing.] 

SONG.     "Strew  we  flowers  on  their  pathway,"  etc. 

Scene  2 

[Bianca's  boudoir  in  the  palace  at  Fiori.  Bianca  with 
a  mirror  in  her  hand,  having  her  hair  done  by  a  maid. 
Several  maids  about,  holding  per  fume -flasks,  brushes, 
and  veils,  articles  of  apparel  of  one  sort  or  another. 
Beatrice  standing  beside  her,  watching.] 

BIA.     Look  at  me,  Rose-Red.    Am  I  pretty  enough, 

Think  you,  to  marry  a  King? 

BEA.  You  are  too  pretty. 

There  is  no  justice  in  it.     Marry  a  cobbler 

And  make  a  king  of  him.     It  is  uneo^ial, — 

Here  is  one  beggarly  boy  king  in  his  own  right, 

And  king  by  right  of  you. 

BIA.  Mario  is  not 

A  beggarly  boy!  Nay,  tell  me  truly,  Beatrice, 

What  do  you  think  of  him? 

BEA.  La,  by  my  soul! 

Have  I  not  told  you  what  I  think  of  him 

A  thousand  times?    He  is  graceful  enough,  I  tell  you, 

And  hath  a  well-shaped  head. 

BIA.  Nay,  is  that  all? 

BEA.     Nay,  hands  and  feet  he  hath,  like  any  other. 

BIA.     Oh,  out  upon  you  for  a  surly  baggage! 

Why  will  you  tease  me  so?     You  do  not  like  him, 

I  think. 

BEA.  Snow-White!      Forgive  me!      La,    in 

deed, 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  37 

I  was  but  jesting!     By  my  sacred  word, 
These  brides  are  serious  folk. 

BIA.  I  could  not  bear 

To  wed  a  man  that  was  displeasing  to  you. 

Loving  him  as  I  do,  I  could  not  choose 

But  wed  him,  if  he  wished  it,  but  'twould  hurt  me 

To  think  he  did  not  please  you. 

BEA.  Let  me,  then, 

Set  your  sweet  heart  at  rest.     You  could  not  find 

In  Christendom  a  man  would  please  me  more. 

BIA.     Then  I  am  happy. 

BEA.  Aye,  be  happy,  child. 

BIA.     Why  do  you  call  me  child? 

BEA.  Faith,  'tis  the  season 

0'  the  year  when  I  am  older  than  you.     Besides, 

A  bride  is  always  younger  than  a  spinster. 

BIA.     A  spinster!     Do  you  come  here  to  me,  Rose- 
Red, 

Whilst  I  pinch  you  smartly!     You,  Arianna,  push  me 
Her  Highness  over  here,  that  I  may  pinch  her! 
[To  Loretta.]     Nay,  is  it  finished?  Aye,  'tis  very  well. 
Though  not  so  well,  Loretta,  as  many  a  day 
When  I  was  doing  nothing! — Nay,  my  girl, 
Tis  well  enough.     He  will  take  me  as  I  am 
Or  leave  me  as  I  was.    — You  may  come  back 
In  half  an  hour,  if  you  are  grieved  about  it, 
And  do  it  again.    But  go  now, — all  of  you. 
I    wish    to  be    alone.       [To    Beatrice.]      Not    you. 
[Exeunt  all  but  Bea.  ajid  Bia.] 

Oh,  Rose-Red, 

I  trust  'twill  not  be  long  before  I  see  you 
As  happy  as  you  see  me  now! 

BEA.  Indeed, 

I  could  not  well  be  happier  than  I  am. 

You  do  not  know,  maybe,  how  much  I  love  you. 


38  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

BIA.     Ah,  but  I  do, — I  have  a  measure  for  it! 
BEA.     Ay,  for  today  you  have.    But  not  for  long. 
They  say  a  bride  forgets  her  friends, — she  cleaves  so 
To  her  new  lord.    It  cannot  but  be  true. 
You  will  be  gone  from  me.    There  will  be  much 
To  drive  me  from  your  mind. 
BIA.  Shall  I  forget,  then, 

When  I  am  old,  I  ever  was  a  child? 
I  tell  you  I  shall  never  think  of  you 
Throughout  my  life,  without  such  tenderness 
As  breaks  the  heart, — and  I  shall  think  of  you 
Whenever  I  am  most  happy,  whenever  I  am 
Most  sad,  whenever  I  see  a  beautiful  thing. 
You  are  a  burning  lamp  to  me,  a  flame 
The  wind  cannot  blow  out,  and  I  shall  hold  you 
High  in  my  hand  against  whatever  darkness. 
BEA.     You  are  to  me  a  silver  bell  in  a  tower. 
And  when  it  rings  I  know  I  am  near  home. 

Scene  3 

[A  room  in  the  palace.    Mario  alone.   Enter  Beatrice.] 
BEA.     Mario!     I  have  a  message  for  you! — Nay, 
You  need  not  hang  your  head  and  shun  me,  Mario, 
Because  you  loved  me  once  a  little  and  now 
Love  somebody  else  much  more.    The  going  of  love 
Is  no  less  honest  than  the  coming  of  it. 
It  is  a  human  thing. 
MAR.  Oh,  Beatrice! 

What  can  I  say  to  you? 
BEA.  Nay,  but  indeed, 

Say  nothing.    All  is  said.    I  need  no  words 
To  tell  me  you  have  been  troubled  in  your  heart, 
Thinking  of  me. 

MAR.  What  can  I  say  to  you! 

BEA.     I  tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  you  must  forget 
This  thing  that  makes  you  sad.     I  have  forgotten, 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  39 

In  seeing  her  so  happy,  that  ever  I  wished 
For  happiness  myself.    Indeed,  indeed, 
I  am  much  happier  in  her  happiness 
Than  if  it  were  my  own;  'tis  doubly  dear, 
I  feel  it  in  myself,  yet  all  the  time 
I  know  it  to  be  hers,  and  am  twice  glad. 

MAR.     I  could  be  on  my  knees  to  you  a  lifetime, 

Nor  pay  you  half  the  homage  is  your  due. 

BEA.     Pay  me  no  homage,  Mario, — but  if  it  be 

I  have  your  friendship,  I  shall  treasure  it. 

MAR.     That  you  will  have  always. 

BEA.  Then  you  will  promise  me 

Never  to  let  her  know.     I  never  told  her 

How  it  was  with  us,  or  that  I  cherished  you 

More  than  another.    It  was  on  my  tongue  to  tell  her 

The  moment  she  returned,  but  she  had  seen  you 

Already  on  the  bridge  as  she  went  by, 

And  had  leaned  out  to  look  at  you,  it  seems, 

And  you  were  looking  at  her, — and  the  first  words 

She  said,  after  she  kissed  me,  were,  "Oh,  sister, 

I  have  looked  at  last  by  daylight  on  the  man 

I  see  in  my  dreams!" 

MAR.     [Tenderly.]  Did  she  say  that? 

BEA.     [Drily.]  Ay,  that 

Was  what  she  said. — By  which  I  knew,  you  see, 

My  dream  was  over, — it  could  not  but  be  you. 

So  that  I  said  no  word,  but  my  quick  blood 

Went  suddenly  quiet  in  my  veins,  and  I  felt 

Years  older  than  Bianca.    I  drew  her  head 

Down  to  my  shoulder,  that  she  might  not  see  my  face, 

And  she  spoke  on,  and  on.    You  must  not  tell  her, 

Even  when  you  both  are  old,  and  there  is  nothing 

To  do  but  to  remember.    She  would  be  withered 

With  pity  for  me.    She  holds  me  very  dear. 

MAR.     I  promise  it,  Rose-Red.    And  oh,  believe  me, 

I  said  no  word  to  you  last  year  that  is  not 


40  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

As  true  today!     I  hold  you  still  the  noblest 

Of  women,  and  the  bravest.    I  have  not  changed. 

Only  last  year  I  did  not  know  I  could  love 

As  I  love  now.    Her  gentleness  has  crept  so 

Into  my  heart,  it  never  will  be  out. 

That  she  should  turn  to  me  and  cling  to  me 

And  let  me  shelter  her,  is  the  great  wonder 

Of  the  world.    You  stand  alone.    You  need  no  shelter, 

Rose-Red. 

BEA.  It  may  be  so. 

MAR.  Will  you  forgive  me? 

BEA.     I  had  not  thought  of  that.    If  it  will  please  you, 

Ay,  surely. — And  now,  the  reason  for  my  coming: 

I  have  a  message  for  you,  of  such  vast  import 

She  could  not  trust  it  to  a  liv'ried  page, 

Or  even  a  courier.    She  bids  me  tell  you 

She  loves  you  still,  although  you  have  been  parted 

Since  four  o'clock. 

MAR.     [Happily.]  Did  she  say  that? 

BEA.  Ay,  Mario. 

I  must  return  to  her.     It  is  not  long  now 

Till  she  will  leave  me. 

MAR.  She  will  never  leave  you, 

She  tells  me,  in  her  heart. 

BEA.     [Happily.]  Did  she  say  that? 

MAR.     Ay,  that  she  did,  and  I  was  jealous  of  you 

One  moment,  till  I  called  myself  a  fool. 

BEA.     Nay,  Mario,  she  does  not  take  from  you 

To  give  to  me;  and  I  am  most  content 

She  told  you  that.    I  will  go  now.    Farewell, 

Mario ! 

MAR.  Nay,  we  shall  meet  again,  Beatrice! 

Scene  4 

[The  ball-room  of  the  palace  at  Fiori,  raised  place 
in  back,  surmounted  by  two  big  chairs,  for  Lorenzo  and 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  41 

Octavia  to  sit  while  the  dance  goes  on.  Dais  on  one  side, 
well  down  stage.,  in  full  sight  of  the  audience,  for  Mario 
and  Bianca.  As  the  curtain  rises  the  stage  is  empty 
except  for  Fidelio,  who  sits  forlornly  on  the  bottom 
steps  of  the  raised  place  in  the  back  of  the  stage,  his 
lute  across  his  knees,  his  head  bowed  upon  it.  Sound  of 
laughter  and  conversation,  possibly  rattling  of  dishes, 
off  stage,  evidently  a  feast  going  on.} 

LAU.  {Off  stage.]  Be  still,  or  I  will  heave  a  plate 
at  you ! 

LUIGI.  [Off  stage.]  Nay,  gentle  Laura,  heave  not 
the  wedding-crockery, 

At  the  wedding-guest!    Behold  me  on  my  knees 

To  tell  the  world  I  love  you  like  a  fool ! 

LAU.     Get  up,  you  oaf!     Or  here's  a  platter  of  gravy 

Will  add  the  motley  to  your  folly ! 

LUIGI.  Hold  her, 

Some  piteous  fop,  that  liketh  not  to  see 

Fine  linen  smeared  with  goose!     Oh,  gracious  Laura, 

I  never  have  seen  a  child  sucking  an  orange 

But  I  wished  an  orange,  too.    This  wedding  irks  me 

Because  'tis  not  mine  own.    Shall  we  be  married 

Tuesday  or  Wednesday? 

LAU.  Are  you  in  earnest,  Luigi? 

LUIGI.     Ay,  that  I  am,  if  never  I  was  before. 

LAU.     La,  I  am  lost!     I  am  a  married  woman! 

Water! — Nay,  wine  will  do!     On  Wednesday,  then. 

I'll  have  it  as  far  off  as  possible. 

[Enter  from  banquet-room  Guido,  Giovanni  and 
Raffaele.] 

Gio.     Well  met,  Fidelio!     Give  us  a  song! 

FID.  Not  I! 

GUI.     Why,  is  this?    You,  that  are  dripping  with  song 
Weekdays,  are  dry  of  music  for  a  wedding? 

FID.     I  have  a  headache.    Go  and  sit  in  a  tree, 


42  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

And  make  your  own  songs. 

RAF.  Nay,  Fidelio. 

String  the  sweet  strings,  man! 

Gio.  Strike  the  pretty  strings! 

GUI.     Give  us  the  silver  strings! 

FID.  Nay  then,  I  will  that!      [He  tears  the 

strings  off  the  lute  and  throws  them  in  Guido9  s  face.] 

Here  be  the  strings,  my  merry  gentlemen! 

Do  you  amuse  yourselves  with  tying  knots  in  them 

And  hanging  one  another! — I  have  a  headache.     [He 
runs  off,  sobbing.] 

RAF.     What  ails  him,  think  you? 

Gio.  Troth,  I  have  no  notion. 

.[Enter  Nurse.] 

GUI.     What  ho,  good  Grazia !    I  hear  my  uncle 

Is  ill  again! 

GRA.  Where  heard  you  that,  you  raven? 

GUI.     Marry,  I  forget.     Is't  true? 

GRA.  It  is  as  false 

As  that  you  have  forgotten  where  you  heard  it. 

Were  you  the  heir  to  his  power,  which  I  bless  God 

You're  not! — he'd  live  to  hide  the  throne  from  you 

Full  many  a  long  day  yet! — Nay,  pretty  Guido, 

Your  cousin  is  not  yet  Queen, — and  when  she  is — Faith, 

She  weareth  a  wide  petticoat, — there'll  be 

Scant  room  for  you  beside  her!      [Exit  Nurse  across 
stage.] 

GUI.     [To  his  companions.]  None  the  less 

I  do  believe  the  king  is  ill. 

RAF.  Who  told  you? 

GUI.     His  wife.    She  is  much  exercised  about  him. 

Gio.     'Tis  like  enough.    This  woman  would  rather  lie 

Than  have  her  breakfast  served  to  her  in  bed. 

[Exeunt  Guido,  Giovanni  and  Raffaele.] 

[Music.      Enter  Musicians  and  take  place  on  stage. 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  43 

Enter  four  pages  and  take  places-  on  either  side  the  door 
as  from  the  banquet-hall  and  on  either  side  the  throne  in 
the  back.  Enter  King  and  Queen,  that  is  to  say  Lorenzo 
and  Octavia,  Lorenzo  apparently  quite  well,  and  seat 
themselves  on  throne  in  back.  Enter  courtiers  and  ladies, 
Carlotta  with  Anselmo,  Laura  with  Luigi,  etc.,  and  stand 
in  little  groups  about  the  stage,  laughing  and  talking 
together.  Enter  Beatrice  alone,  her  train  held  by  two 
pages  in  black.  Enter  twelve  little  Cupids,  running,  and 
do  a  short  dance  in  the  center  of  the  room,  then  rush  to 
the  empty  dais  which  is  awaiting  Mario  and  Bianca,  and 
cluster  about  it.  Enter  Bianca  and  Mario,  she  in  white 
and  silver,  with  a  deep  sky  blue  velvet  train  six  yards 
long,  held  up  by  six  silver  pages  [or  Cupids'] ;  he  in 
black  and  gold,  with  a  purple  velvet  train  of  the  same 
length  held  by  six  gold  pages  [or  Cupids}.  His  arm  is 
about  her  waist,  she  is  leaning  back  her  head  against 
him  and  looking  up  into  his  face.  They  come  in  slowly, 
talking  softly  together,  as  utterly  oblivious  of  the  court, 
the  pages,  the  music  everything,  as  if  they  were  a  shep 
herd  and  a  shepherdess  walking  through  a  meadow.  They 
walk  slowly  across  the  stage  and  seat  themselves  on  the 
dais.  The  music  changes,  strikes  up  a  gay  pavane,  or  the 
equivalent  of  the  period  of  the  costumes,  the  ladies  and 
courtiers  dance.  Guido,  Giovanni  and  Raffaele  re-enter 
just  as  the  music  starts  and  go  up  to  the  ladies;  Guido 
goes  to  Beatrice,  and  she  dances  with  him.  In  the  midst 
of  the  dance  Lorenzo  slips  a  little  sidewise  in  his  chair, 
his  head  drops  forward  on  his  chest;  he  does  not  move 
again.  Nobody  notices  for  some  time.  The  dance  con 
tinues,  all  who  are  not  dancing  watching  the  dancers, 
save  Octavia,  who  watches  with  great  pride  and  affection 
Bianca  and  Mario,  who  in  turn  are  looking  at  one  an 
other.  Octavia  turns  finally  to  speak  to  Lorenzo,  stares 
at  him,  touches  him,  then  screams.  Beatrice  should  then 
be  in  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  dance.  Music  stops  in 
confusion  on  a  dischord,  dance  breaks  up  wildly,  every 
body  rushes  to  throne.] 


44  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Scene  5 

[The  same  room  later  that  evening,  entirely  empty, 
disordered.  Musicians'  benches  overturned,  for  example, 
a  couple  of  instruments  left  about,  garlands  trampled 
on  the  floor,  a  wing  of  one  of  the  Cupids  clinging  to 
the  dais  of  Bianco,  and  Mario.  Enter  Beatrice,  weeping, 
goes  to  her  father's  throne  and  creeps  up  into  it,  with  her 
face  towards  the  back  of  it  and  clings1  there,  sobbing 
quietly.  Enter  Bianca  and  Mario.] 

BIA.  [Softly.]  Ay.  She  is  here.  I  thought  she 
would  be  here. 

There  are  so  many  people  by  his  bed 

Even  now,  she  cannot  be  alone  with  him. 

MAR.     Is  there  no  hope? 

BIA.  Nay,  there  is  none.    Tis  over. 

He  was  a  kind  old  man. 

MAR.  Come,  let  us  go, 

And  leave  her  to  herself. 

BIA.  Nay,  Mario. 

I  must  not  leave  her.    She  will  sit  like  that 

All  night,  unless  I  bid  her  come  away, 

And  put  her  into  bed. 

MAR.  Will  you  come  to  me 

After  she  sleeps? 

BIA.  Ay.    If  she  sleeps. 

MAR.  And  if  not? 

BIA.     I  could  not  leave  her. 

MAR.  Bianca,  do  you  love  me? 

BIA.     Ay,  Mario! 

MAR.  Ah,  but  not  as  I  love  you! 

BIA.     You  do  not  mean  that,  Mario;  you  know 

How  much  I  love  you.    But  I  could  not  be  happy 

Thinking  of  her  awake  in  the  darkness,  weeping, 

And  all  alone. 

MAR.  Oh,  my  sweet  love. 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  45 

BIA.  It  may  be 

She  will  sleep. 

MAR.  I  shall  be  waiting  for  you.    [They  em 

brace.] 

[Exit  Mario.  Bianca  goes  to  Beatrice  and  sits  at  the 
foot  of  the  throne,  putting  her  head  against  Beatrice's 
feet.] 

BIA.  Sister. 

[After  a  moment  Beatrice  slowly  reaches  down  her 
hand,  and  Bianca  takes  it.] 

CURTAIN 


ACT  IV 

Scene  1 — Five  years  later. 

[A  marketplace  in  Fiori,  vegetables,  fruits  and  flowers 
exposed  for  sale  in  little  stalls  and  wagons,  crowd  of 
townspeople  moving  about,  talking,  laughing,  buying. 
Group  of  children  playing  a  game  in  a  ring.  Supper 
time.] 

CHILDREN.     One,  two,  three, 

The  dough  is  in  the  oven! 

One,  two,  three, 

The  bread  is  on  the  board! 

One,  two,  three, 

The  dough  is  in  the  oven! 

One,  two,  three, 

The  bread  is  on  the  board! 

One,  two,  three, 

All  follow  me! 

EUGENIA.  Good-even,  Giovanitta.  Those  are  beauti 
ful 

Onions  you  have  there. 

Gio.  Ay,  it  has  been  a  good  year 

For  onions. 

EUG.  I  am  taking  seven. 


46  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Gio.  Each  year, 

You  buy  another  onion ! 

EUG.  Faith,  each  year 

I  have  another  mouth  to  thrust  it  in! 

Beautiful  carrots,  too,  you  have. 

Gio.  Ay,  carrots 

Are  well  enough.  One  cannot  complain.  Tis  a  good 
year 

For  carrots. 

CLARA.  'Tis  a  good  year  for  many  things. 

Prices  are  low, — but  not  too  low  for  profit. 

GIULIANA.  And  there  are  fewer  taxes  than  there  once 
were 

On  things  one  cannot  live  without. 

ANNA.  'Tis  a  good  Queen 

We  have,  it  must  be  granted. 

Gio.  Ay,  and  a  wise  one. 

GILDA.     And  pretty,  too. 

GIULIANA.  Ho,  ho!     When  did  you  see  her? 

GILDA.  This  morning,  mother.  I  was  at  the  edge 
of  the  wood 

With  Beppo,  when  they  rode  by  to  the  hunt, 

Talking  together,  and  laughing. 

BEPPO.  [Calling  from  across  the  stage.]  And 

the  horses 

With  feet  like  this!  [Arching  his  hands  and  feet  to 
represent  a  horse  stepping  delicately.] 

GILDA.  And  glittering  in  the  sunshine 

In  a  thousand  places,  mother!     I  wanted  to  tell  you 

When  we  returned,  but  you  had  gone  to  the  brook 

With  the  linen.  They  were  so  near  us  we  could  hear 
them 

Talking. 

BEPPO.     [Coming  up.]     And  hear  the  horses  breathe! 

ANNA.  What  said  they? 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  47 

GILDA.     Well,  one  of  them  said— what  was  the  name? 

BEPPO.  Anselmo. 

GILDA.  Oh,  ay.  She  said,  "Anselmo,  am  I  getting 
thinner 

Do  you  think?  If  I  be  not  thinner  than  I  was  at 
starting, 

I  shall  descend  at  once!     I  like  not  this; 

It  chatters  my  teeth." 

BEPPO.  And  then  she  said — 

GILDA.  What  said  she? 

Oh,  ay, — about  the  boat. 

BEPPO.  She  said,  "Next  time 

I  shall  go  fishing  instead  of  hunting.    A  boat 

Hath  a  more  mannerly  gait!" 

GILDA.  There  was  one  horse,  mother, 

That  was  all  white!    There  was  not  one  hair  upon  him 

That  was  not  white! 

GIULIANA.  And  who  was  riding  that  horse? 

BEPPO.     A  man.    And  riding  well. 

GILDA.  He  was  dressed  in  green, 

And  had  a  yellow  beard.    And  there  was  a  lady 

With  hair  the  color  of  Adelina's,  bright 

Like  fire.  She  was  dressed  in  blue,  and  was  most 
beautiful. 

BEPPO.     And  she  was  mounted  on  a  dappled  mare. 

GILDA.  But,  oh,  it  was  the  Queen  that  was  more 
lovely — 

Than  any  of  the  rest! 

Gio.  How  did  you  know,  now, 

It  was  the  Queen? 

GILDA.  Nay,  but  you  could  not  help 

But  know!     She  was  not  laughing  like  the  rest, — 

Just  smiling;  and  I  would  not  have  been  afraid 

To  toss  a  flower  to  her  from  the  wood, 

If  I  had  had  a  flower. 


48  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

BEPPO.  You  knew  her,  though, 

Because  she  was  in  scarlet.    All  the  world  knows 
She  wears  a  scarlet  mantle! 

GILDA.  Nay,  if  that  were  all, 

It  might  have  been  the  Pope! 

BEPPO.  I  would  it  had  heen. 

I  never  saw  the  Pope. 

GILDA.  You  never  saw 

The  Queen  until  this  morning! — Mother,  she  ride? 

Clothed  like  a  man,  almost! 

BEPPO.  With  sword  at  side! 

GILDA.     And,  oh,  the  sword  had  a  jeweled — what  is 
the  name  of  it? 

BEPPO.     Scabbard,  or  course! 

GILDA.  A  jeweled  scabbard,  mother! 

I  wish  I  were  a  queen. 

BEPPO.  Ho,  you  would  make 

A  proper  queen,  with  that  droll  nose  of  yours! 

GILDA.     I  know  a  boy  who  likes  my  nose! 

BEPPO.  Ho,  ho ! 

He  must  be  a  hunch-back! 

GIULIANA.  You  must  not  tease  her,  Beppo. 

GILDA.     I  wish  I  were  queen.    If  I  were  a  queen, 

You  would  not  dare  to  say  my  nose  is  droll. 

BEPPO.     It  would  be,  all  the  same. 

Gio.  You  should  be  content 

With  what  you  have,  not  cry  to  rise  beyond  it. 

It  is  a  sin  to  covet. 

GIULIANA.  Being  a  queen, 

My  bird,  is  not  all  riding  to  the  hunt 
Of  a  sunny  morning. 

ANNA.  Nay,  'tis  riding  back 

At  times,  of  a  rainy  night,  to  such  a  burden 

Of  cares  as  simple  folk  have  little  mind  of. 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  49 

GILDA.  I'd  rather  have  a  queen's  cares  than  my  own. 
BEPPO.  Ho,  ho!  Your  cares!  What  cares  have  you? 
GILDA.  I  have 

A  brother  that  will  be  teasing  me  all  times! 
Tis  cares  enough  for  one,  I  tell  you. 
ADELINA.     [Across  stage.]  Beppo! 

Come  help  me  fetch  the  milk! 
GILDA.  Oh,  Mister  Beppo, 

Your  sweetheart  calls  you!     Run  and  fetch  the  milk! 
LEONORA.     [From  a  house,  coming  out.]     Come  in  to 
supper,  children! 

RIGO.     Oh,  not  just  yet! 
ELENORA.     Father's  not  home  yet! 
LEONORA.  You  need  not  wait  for  him. 

Louis.     May  we  come  out  again? 

LEONORA.     [Joining  other  women.]  Ay,  for 

a  time. 

Till  it  gets  dark. 

RIGO.     [To  Louis.]  'Tis  dark  now,  almost. 

Louis.  Hush! 

She  does  not  know  it. 

GIULIANA.  'Tis  dark  now. 

LEONORA.  Ay,  I  know. 

I  let  them  play  a  little  after  dark 

Sometimes,   when   the   weather's   fine.     I   would   not 
have  them 

Afraid  of  shadows.    They  think  I  do  not  know 

Darkness  from  light. 

ELENORA.  There's  father  now! 

RIGO.  I  see  him! 

[Elenora,  Louis  and  Rigo  run  off  the  stage  and  along 
the  path.] 

LEONORA.     He  is  late  home  today.    I  cannot  think 


50  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

What  may  have  held  him.    'Twill  be  deep  night  already 
In  the  woods. 

CESCO.  [Off  stage,  harshly.]  Down!  Down!  Do 
you  run  back  to  your  mother! 

See  you  not  I  am  in  haste? — Hang  not  upon  me! 
Euc.     La!    He  is  in  a  temper! 

LEO.  I  never  knew  him 

So  out  of  patience  with  them. 

Giu.  He  is  hungry,  maybe. 

LEO.     He  is  often  hungry,  but  I  never  knew  him 

So  out  of  patience.  [The  children  come  running  back. 
To  Elenora.] 

Why  do  you  weep,  my  heart? 

Lui.     Father  is  someone  else  tonight. 

ELENORA.     [Weeping.]  He  pushed  me! 

[Enter  Cesco,  with  game  on  his  shoulder,  or  a  basket 
of  mushrooms.] 

SEVERAL  WOMEN.     Good-even,  Cesco. 

CES.     [To  Leonora.]  Look  you,  Leonora, 

Have  we  a  bed  fit  for  a  queen  to  lie  in? 

LEO.     Nay,  faith!     Not  we! 

GIL.  She  can  have  my  bed,  mother. 

Giu.     Ay,  true.    There  is  a  bed  in  my  house,  Cesco. 

Gio.     What  will  the  queen  do  here? 

Giu.  I  would  indeed 

She  had  let  us  know  that  she  was  coming! 

CES.  The  Queen 

Knew  not  herself.     Nor  is  she  coming  of  herself. 

They  are  bringing  her, — on  a  litter  of  crossed  boughs. 

GIL.     She  is  not  dead? 

CES.  Nay.     Wounded  i'  the  arm 

A  little,  and  in  a  swoon.    But  the  young  King 

Of  Lagoverde  is  no  more! 

WOMEN.  How  so? 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  51 

CES.     I  tell  you  my  two  eyes  have  looked  this  day 

On  a  sad  and  useless  thing! — A  fine  lad,  young, 

And  strong,  and  beautiful  as  a  lad  may  be, 

And  king  of  a  fair  country,  thrust  from  horse 

By  a  foul  blow,  and  sprawled  upon  the  ground, — 

Legs  wide  asunder,  fist  full  of  brown  mud, 

Hair  in  his  eyes, — most  pitiful  unkingly! 

Bring  me  a  mug  of  wine,  good  wife!  [Leonora  goes 
out.] 

Gio.  You,  Gilda! 

There  is  a  queen  you  would  not  be  tonight, 

I'll  warrant  you, — the  Queen  of  Lagoverde, 

With  her  two  fatherless  babes! 

EUG.  Nay,  now,  good  Cesco, 

What  is  this  matter? 

CES.  You'll  know  it  quick  enough. 

They  will  be  bringing  the  queen  here  ere  I  have  breath 

To  tell  you.    They  are  coming  by  the  road. 

I  took  the  mountain-path,  and  ran. 

Giu.  I  must  hasten 

To  put  fresh  sheets  on.  [To  Gilda.]  Look  you, — 
listen  well 

If  he  should  talk,  and  tell  me  afterwards.     [Exit.] 

EUG.  Here  comes  Horatio!  The  boats  are  in.  [Some 
children  rush  down  to  the  water-side.] 

A  good  day,  husband? 

HOR.  Ay,  a  heavy  day. 

What  think  you  of  that? — A  big  one,  eh? — Came  in 

With  a  school  of  little  fish, — too  greedy  that  time! 

What  happens  here? — The  air  is  full  of  breathing! 

[The  men  come  up  from  the  boats  with  children  cling 
ing  to  them.  Beppo  and  Adelina  return  from  another" 
direction  with  the  milk.] 

LEO.     [Somewhat  proudly.]     Cesco  will  tell  you. 

CES.     In  a  word  'tis  this:     Today  the  Queen  of  Fiori, 

Returning  from  the  hunt,  is  set  upon 


52  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

By  brigands;  where  at  the  King  of  Lagoverde, 
Being  hunting  in  that  quarter  and  hearing  cries, 
Comes  up  to  give  his  aid;  in  rendering  which 
He  gives  his  life  as  well,  and  at  this  moment, 
On  other  men's  legs,  goes  heavily  home  to  supper. 
The  Queen  of  Fiori,  wounded,  and  in  a  swoon 
Only  less  deep  than  death  itself,  comes  this  way. 
CROWD.     [Ay,  here  they  come!     Enter  Anselmo.] 
ANS.  Make  way,  make  way,  good  people — 

Fall  back  a  little — leave  a  clear  space — give  air! 
[Enter  Laura  and  Francesca,  Luigi,  several  gentlemen, 
and  several  attendants,  four  of  them  bearing  a  litter  on 
which  lies  Beatrice,  in  a  scarlet  cloak,  her  hair  flowing. 
Luigi  is  with  Laura,  who  clings  to  him.  If  possible  to 
arrange,  several  of  the  party  may  lead  on  their  horses 
and  lead  them  off  across  the  stage.  The  litter  is  set  down 
stage  in  full  sight  of  the  audience.  Beppo  comes  down 
stage  near  it,  as  does  also,  from  another  direction,  Gilda. 
Giuliana  returns.'} 

ANS.     Who  has  a  bed  that  we  may  lay  her  on? 
She  cannot  leave  this  place  tonight. 
Giu.  This  way,  sir. 

[The  attendants  pick  up  the  litter  and  go  off,  the  crowd 
following.] 

GIL.     [Stealing  back.]     Hist,  Beppo! 
BEPPO.  Ay? 

GIL.  Heard  you  not  something  fall, 

When  they  picked  her  up  again? 

BEPPO.  Ay,  that  I  did. 

GIL.     What  was  it,  think  you?     [They  search.]     Nay, 
'twas  nearer  here. 

BEPPO.     I  have  it. — Tis  her  sword! 
GIL.  The  Queen's?     Ay,— truly. 

How  beautiful ! 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  53 

BEPPO.  [Slowly  and  with  awe  drawing  it  from  its 
scabbard.] 

Look, — there  is  blood  on  it! 

Scene  2 

[A  room  in  the  palace  at  Lagoverde.  Bianca  and  her 
two  little  daughters  discovered  at  the  rise  of  the  curtain? 
she  in  a  big  chair,  they  at  her  feet.] 

BIA.     And  so  the  fairy  laid  a  spell  on  her: 

Henceforth  she  should  be  ugly  as  a  toad. 

But  the  good  fairy,  seeing  this  was  done, 

And  having  in  no  wise  power  to  alter  this, 

Made  all  toads  beautiful. 

LITTLE  ROSE-RED.  They  are  not  beautiful 

Now,  mother! 

LITTLE  SNOW-WHITE.     That  was  in  another  country! — 

What  country,  mother?  [Bianca,  lost  in  thought,  does 
not  answer.] 

LITTLE  ROSE-RED.  Where  is  father,  mother? — 

I  have  not  seen  him  in  so  many  days ! 

BIA.     Father  is  gone  away. 

LITTLE  ROSE-RED.  Will  he  come  back? 

BIA.     Nay.    He  will  not  come  back.    But  we  shall  go 

Where  he  is. 

LITTLE  SNOW-WHITE.     Soon? 

BIA.  God  grant  it  may  be  soon! 

Now — shall  we  play  a  game?     [Enter  Octavia.] 

OCT.  Bianca. 

BIA.  Ay. 

OCT.     It  is  a  folly  to  remain  indoors 

Like  this.    You  should  be  out  in  the  sunshine. 

BIA.  Nay. 

I  have  no  business  with  the  sunshine. 

OCT.  Ah, 


54  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

My  daughter,  say  not  so! — The  children,  then, — 
They  have  much  need  of  it,  and  they  have  need 
Of  you,  at  the  same  time.    Take  them  without. 
BIA.     I  do  not  wish  to  be  in  the  sunshine. 
LITTLE  SNOW-WHITE.  Mother, 

Come  out  of  doors! 
OCT.  You  see,  now! 

BIA.  Do  you  run  out,  dears, 

And  play  at  ball.    Mother  will  join  you  later. 
LITTLE  ROSE-RED.     Where  is  my  ball? 
BIA.  Nay,  do  you  not  remember? 

We  put  it  in  the  ear  of  the  stone  griffin, 
Because  he  hears  too  much. 
LITTLE  ROSE-RED.  Ay,  so  we  did! 

LITTLE  SNOW-WHITE.     Come  on,  Rose-Red!     [Exeunt 
Children.] 

OCT.  It  is  a  curious  thing 

This  friend  of  yours  you  rate  so  monstrous  high 

Has  not  come  nigh  you  in  your  sore  affliction! 

BIA.     I  beg  you  not  to  speak  of  that  again, 

Mother.    'Tis  the  third  time  today  you  have  said  that, 

Or  hinted  at  it.    And  I  answer  always, 

"There  is  some  reason  for  it,"  as  I  should  answer 

Though  you  cried  daily  till  the  day  of  doom, 

"It  is  a  curious  thing!"    There  is  some  reason, 

There  is  some  good  reason  why  she  does  not  come. 

OCT.     Oh,  ay,  I  doubt  it  not!     But  there  are  reasons 

And  reasons! 

BIA.  And  what  am  I  to  learn  from  that? 

OCT.     'Tis  scarce  by  reason  of  too  much  love  for  you 

She  leaves  you  friendless  in  your  greatest  need. 

BIA.     I  cannot  say.     'Tis  one  thing  or  another  . 

You  have  no  words  can  turn  me  to  believe 

She  has  forgotten  me,  or  loves  me  less. 

'Tis  a  big  thing,  to  leave  me  thus  alone, — 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  55 

And  there  is  some  hig  reason. 

OCT.  Ay.    Oh,  ay. 

Tis  possible  she  grieves  for  Mario's  death 

No  less  than  you. 

BIA.     [Simply.]  Ay,  it  is  possible. 

I  mind  she  told  me  on  my  marriage-day 

She  was  as  happy  as  I. 

OCT.  'Tis  a  curious  thing, 

When  he  was  here  she  came  to  see  you  often, 

But  now  that  he  is  gone  comes  not  at  all. 

BIA.  [Simply.]  Ay,  it  is  curious.  [Catching  Octa- 
vias  expression.] 

BIA.  Nay,  what  evil  thing 

Is  in  your  mind,  gives  you  that  evil  smile? 

OCT.     Only  a  little  thought. 

BIA.  A  little  thought, 

I'll  warrant  you! — You'd  have  me  to  believe 

She  loved  my  husband? 

OCT.  Ay,  I  know  she  loved  him. 

BIA.     It  is  a  lie! 

OCT.  How  dare  you  say  I  lie! 

BIA.     Oh,  do  not  be  so  proud !    Let  us  speak  truth 

At  length,  a  little!     We  are  so  garnished  up 

With  courtesies,  so  over-sauced  and  seasoned, 

We  cannot  taste  each  other!     Why  do  you  tell  me 

A  thing  like  that? — You  have  no  love  for  me! 

OCT.  [Weeping.]  I  love  you  too  much — you  are 
the  only  thing 

I  do  love! 

BIA.  Nay,  it  is  not  love  of  me 

For  my  own  self.     Else  would  you  do  the  thing 

Would  make  me  happiest.  You  know  how  I  have 
loved  her, 

Since  we  were  children.    You  could  not  be  to  me 

What  she  was;  one  forgets  too  many  things. 


56  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

You  could  not  know  my  thought.    I  loved  you  dearly. 

But  you  were  hard  to  love;  one  never  knew 

Whether  you  would  be  hot  or  cold  to  touch. 

Whilst  she  and  I, — oh,  we  were  two  young  trees 

So  nearly  of  a  height  we  had  the  same  world 

Ever  within  our  vision! — Yet  all  these  years, 

Even  from  the  time  we  first  went  to  Fiori, 

You  have  been  bearing  me  your  little  tales, — 

"She  had  done  this  and  that,  she  was  thus  and  so — ", 

Seeking  to  stir  and  poison  the  clear  water 

Of  my  deep  love  for  her!     And  now  this  thing. 

Which  is  not  true.    But  if  it  had  been  true, 

It  would  not  be  so  out  of  all  reason  cruel 

As  that  you  should  have  told  me  of  it  now. 

Nay,  do  not  weep.    All  day  'tis  one  of  us 

Making  the  other  weep.    We  are  two  strange, 

Unhappy  women.     Come,  let  us  be  at  peace. 

[Pause.    Bianca  rises  suddenly.] 

Mother,  farewell  a  little  while.    I  go  now 

To  her,  seeing  that  she  does  not  come  to  me. 

But  not  to  question  her,  not  to  demand, 

"How  comes  it:  this?     What  can  you  say  to  that?" 

Only  to  sit  beside  her,  as  in  the  old  days, 

And  let  her  lay  her  quiet  on  my  heart. 

Scene  3 

[The  garden  at  Fiori,  same  as  in  Act  I,  Scene  1.  Dis 
covered  seated  on  a  stone  bench  in  the  sunshine,  Beatrice, 
clad  in  a  loose  gown,  looking  very  ill.  Fidelio  sings  off 
stage.] 

FID.     [Singing.] 

"Let  the  little  birds  sing, 

Let  the  little  lambs  play. 

Spring  is  here,  and  so  'tis  spring, — 

But  not  in  the  old  way. 

I  recall  a  place 

Where  a  plum-tree  grew, — 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  57 

There  you  lifted  up  your  face 
And  blossoms  covered  you. 

If  the  little  birds  sing, 
And  the  little  lambs  play, 
Spring  is  here,  and  so  'tis  spring, — 
But  not  in  the  old  way. 

BEA.     It  is  a  pretty  song.    There  be  some  things 
That  even  the  tortured  heart's  profoundest  anguish 
Cannot  bring  down  from  their  high  place.     Music 
Is  one  of  them.     [Enter  Grazia  carrying  a  bowl.] 

GRA.  Now,  will  you  drink  this  broth, 

Or  will  you  not?     I  swear  upon  my  shroud — 
And  'tis  a  solemn  oath — I  never  nursed 
So  vaporous  a  patient! — Come,  my  bird! 

BEA.     [Taking  the  bowl,  then  setting  it  down.]     Nay, 
Nurse,  I  cannot. 

GRA.  Oh,  alackaday! 

What  shall  I  do  with  you?     Come  now,  and  drink  me 

The  pretty  broth,  my  dear! 

BEA.  I  will  drink  it  later. 

'Tis  too  hot. 

GRA.  Ay,  and  in  a  moment  'twill  be 

Too  cold!     And  you'll  not  drink  it!     I  could  cry! 
[Exit  Grazia.]     [Enter  Fidelio.] 

BEA.     Fidelio,  as  you  love  me,  do  you  drink  this, 
And  quickly,  man! 

FID.     [With  grief.]  Oh,  my  dear  mistress! 

BEA.  Drink! 

FID.     [Sadly,  drinking.]     I  best  would  leave  a  little, 
else  she'll  know 
'Twas  never  you. 

BEA.  Ay,  so  you  would.    V  faith, 

It  is  a  knave's  trick,  but  I  cannot  touch  it. 


58  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Go  now,  Fidelio,  ere  she  come  again.     [Exit  Fidelio.] 
[Enter  Bianca.] 

BIA.  [Softly.]  Rose-Red.  [Beatrice  looks  up  and 
listens,  thinking  it  a  dream.~\ 

BIA.  Rose-Red,  dear  sister! 

BEA.     [Bowing  her  head  and  weeping.'}  Oh, 

my  heart! 

BIA.     [Coming  towards  her.]     Why  do  you  weep? 

BEA.     [Looking  up  startled  and  seeing  her,  jumping 
to  her  feet.]     Oh,  no!     Oh,  God  above! 
Go  hack!     Go  hack! 

BIA.  [Amazed,  quietly.]  Beatrice,  are  you 

mad? 

Tis  I,  Bianca. 

BEA.     [More  quietly.]     Ay,  I  know  'tis  you. 

And  you  must  go  away. 

BIA.  [Breaking  down.]  You  are  mad,  my 

dear! 

BEA.  I  would  I  were.  For  madmen  have  their  mo 
ments 

Of  light  into  the  brain. — Hear  me.  Bianca, 

You  must  return  at  once  to  Lagoverde, 

And  come  to  me  no  more,  and  think  of  me 

No  more. 

BIA.  Ay.    I  will  go.    But  ere  I  go 

Tell  me  you  do  not  love  me.    'Tis  apparent 

You  do  not.    I  but  wish  to  hear  the  words. 

BEA.     Nay,  that  I  will  not  say.     It  would  be  well, 

To  say  it,  and  let  it  be.     But  I'll  not  say  it, 

It  is  not  true. 

BIA.  You  love  me  still? 

BEA.  I  love  you 

More  than  all  else  on  earth.    But  I  have  wtpnged  you 

So  hugely  that  I  cannot  think  of  it 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  59 

And   stand  here  talking  with   you — I   am   ill — [She 

staggers.] 

You  must  pardon  me — I  have  been  very  ill — 

BIA.     Then  it  is  true? 

BEA.     [With  a  cry  as  of  relief.]    Ay,  it  is  true!    Who 

told  you? 

BIA.     My  mother  told  me.     I  said  it  was  not  true. 

But  if  'tis  true — I  pity  you,  Rose-Red. 

I  pity  him.    I  pity  us  all  together. 

BEA.     [Feverishly.]    Ah,  I  can  see  it  now! — the  quiet 

road 

In  the  deep  wood's  gathering  darkness,  the  reins  loose 
On  the  horses'  necks,  that  nodded,  nodded,  and  we 
Speaking  from  time  to  time,  and  glad  to  think 
Of  home, — and  suddenly  out  of  nowhere, — fury, 
And  faces,  and  long  swords,  and  a  great  noise! 
And  even  as  I  reached  to  draw  my  sword, 
The  arm  that  held  the  scabbard  set  on  fire, 
As  if  the  sleeve  were  burning! — and  my  horse 
Backing  into  the  trees,  my  hair  caught,  twisted, 
Torn  out  by  the  roots !    Then  from  the  road  behind 
A  second  fury!     And  I  turned,  confused, 
Outraged  with  pain,  and  thrust, — and  it  was  Mario ! 
BIA.     [Wildly.]     What  are  you  saying?     What  are 

you  saying?    What  is  this 

You  are  telling  me?    That  it  was  you?    Your  hand — ? 
Oh,  God  have  mercy  upon  me!     Let  me  go! 
BEA.     [Pitifully,  reaching  out  her  arms  towards  her.] 
Snow- White !    Snow- White !— farewell ! 
BIA.     [Without  turning.]  Oh,  God  have  mercy! 

[Exit  Bianca.] 

[Beatrice  falls  unconscious  to  the  floor.] 
CURTAIN 


60  The  Lamp  and  the  BeU 

ACT  V 

Scene  1 

[A  room  in  the  palace  at  Fiori.    Anselmo  and  LuigL] 
LUIGI     Nay,  is  that  true,  Anselmo? 
ANS.  Aye,  'tis  true. 

But  no  one  saw  save  me.    I  drew  her  sword 
Out  of  his  heart  and  thrust  it  in  its  scabbard, 
Where  she  lay  senseless. 
Lui.  Oh,  unhappy  Queen! 

ANS.     Ay,  she  does  not  forget.    Has  it  not  struck  you 

She  rides  no  more?     Her  black  horse  stands  in  stable, 

Eating  his  head  off.    It  is  two  years  now 

Since  she  has  visited  Lagoverde;  and  the  Queen 

Of  Lagoverde  comes  not  nigh  this  place. 

Lui.     There's  not  the  reason  that  there  was  to  come 

Before  Octavia's  death. 

ANS.  Nay,  'tis  not  that. 

Lui.     Think  you  that  Beatrice  told  her? 

ANS.  Ay, 

I  doubt  it  not. 

Lui.  'Tis  hard.    They  were  close  friends. 

ANS.     And  since  that  day  her  hand  upon  the  sceptre 
Trembles, — and  Guido  sees.     She  goes  too  much 
Among  the  people,  nursing  them.     She  loves  them; 
Their  griefs  are  hers,  their  hearts  are  hers,  as  well. 
But  Guido  has  a  following  in  this  court 
That  hangs  upon  his  word,  and  he  has  taught  them 
Her  gentleness  is  weakness,  and  her  love 
Faint-hearted  womanish  whims,  till  they  are  eager 
To  pull  her  down,  and  see  a  man  in  place  of  her. 

Lui.     Her  throne  is  like  a  raft  upon  a  sea, 
That  shifts,  and  rights  itself,  and  may  go  down 
At  any  moment. 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  61 

ANS.  The  more  especially 

For  all  these  drowning  beggars  that  cling  to  it, 
Chattering  for  help.     She  will  not  strike  them  off. 
Lui.     Unhappy    Queen.      And    there's    a    storm    ap 
proaching, 

If  ever  I  smelled  wind. 
ANS.  I  fear  it  Luigi. 

[Exeunt  Anselmo  and  Luigi.    Enter  Guido  and  Fran 
cesco.] 

FRA.     How  do  I  know  you  love  her  still? — I  know, 
The  way  you  fall  a-tapping  with  your  fingers, 
Or  plucking  at  your  eye-brows,  if  her  name 
Is  spoken,  or  she  move  across  the  court. 
How  do  I  know? — Oh,  Guido,  have  I  learned  you 
So  little,  then,  in  all  these  bitter  years? 
I  know  you  very  well. 
GUI.  You  know  too  much 

I'll  have  an  end  of  this,  I  tell  you! 
FRA.  Ay. 

You've  told  me  that  before. — An  end  of  what? 
What  is  this  thing  you'll  put  this  mighty  end  to? 
'Fore  God  I  would  I  knew.     Could  I  but  name  it, 
I  might  have  power  to  end  it  then,  myself! 
GUI.     I'll  have  an  end  of  these  soft  words  at  twilight, 
And  these  bad  mornings  full  of  bile !    I'll  have  an  end 
Of  all  this  spying  on  me! 
FRA.     [Gently.]  'Tis  not  so. 

I  do  not  spy  upon  you.    But  I  see  you 
Bigger  than  other  men,  and  your  least  gesture — 
A  giant  moving  rocks. — Oh,  Guido,  tell  me 
You  do  not  love  her !     Even  though  I  know 
You  lie,  I  will  believe  you, — for  I  must! 
GUI.     [Pause.]     Nay,  I  am  done  with  you.    I  will  tell 
you  nothing. 

Out  of  my  way! — I  have  that  on  my  mind 

Would  crush  your  silly  skull  like  the  shell  of  an  egg! 


62  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

Od's  body,  will  you  keep  your  ugly  claws 
From  scratching  at  my  sleeve?     [He  thrusts  her  rough 
ly  aside  and  rushes  out.] 

FRA.     [Creeping  away,  sobbing.]  Oh,  God — oh,  God — 
I  would  whatever  it  is,  that  were  over.     [Exit.] 
[Enter  Fidelio,  and  crosses  the  stage,  singing.] 
FID.     [Singing.] 
"Rain  comes  down 
And  hushes  the  town. 

And  where  is  the  voice  that  I  heard  crying? 
Snow  settles 
Over  the  nettles. 

Where  is  the  voice  that  I  heard  crying? 
Sand  at  last 
On  the  drifting  mast. 

And  where  is  the  voice  that  I  heard  crying? 
Earth  now 
On  the  busy  brow. 

And  where  is  the  voice  that  I  heard  crying? 
[Exit  Fidelio.] 

Scene  2 

[The  court-room  in  the  palace  at  Fiori,  extemely 
crowded  with  restless  and  expectant  people.  The  crowd 
is  arranged  on  both  sides  of  the  stage,  in  such  a  way 
that  a  broad  avenue  is  left  in  the  middle,  leading  from 
the  footlights  to  the  back  of  the  stage  and  gradually 
narrowing  to  a  point  at  Beatrice's  throne.  On  the  ex 
treme  right  and  left  of  the  stage,  along  the  back  of  the 
crowd,  stands  the  guard,  a  large  body  of  armed  soldiers, 
at  attention,  in  double  row.  On  either  side  the  throne 
stands  an  armed  soldier.  As  the  curtain  rises  the  court 
ist  all  standing  and  looking  off  stage  in  a  certain  direc 
tion.  Enter  the  Queen,  Beatrice,  from  that  direction, 
walks  in,  looking  straight  ahead,  goes  to  the  throne  and 
seats  herself.  The  court  sits.  The  clerk  begins  to  read.] 

CLERK.     The  first  case  to  be  heard  ir  lhat  of  Lisa, 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  63 

A  widow  with  two  small  children,  who  resides 
Near  the  Duke's  wood,  and  has  been  caught  in  the  act 
Of  cutting  trees  there,  and  hauling  them  home  to  burn. 
BEA.  Stand,  Lisa.     You  are  a  widow,  I  am 

told. 

With  two  small  children. 

LISA.  Ay,  your  Majesty, 

Two  little  boys. 

BEA.  I  know  another  widow,  Lisa, 

With  two  small  children, — but  hers  are  little  girls. 

Have  you  been  cutting  trees  on  the  Duke's  land? 

LISA.     No,  Majesty.     I  could  not  cut  a  tree. 

I  have  no  axe. 

BEA.  And  are  you  strong  enough 

To  break  a  tree  with  your  hands? 

LISA.  No,  Majesty. 

BEA.     I  see.    What  do  you  do,  then?    There  must  be 

Some  reason  for  this  plaint. 

LISA.  I  gather  wood 

That's  dead, — dried  boughs,  and  underbrush  that's  been 

A  long  time  on  the  ground,  and  drag  it  home. 

BEA.     Have  you  a  wood-pile? 

LISA.  Nay.     I  gather  enough 

Each  day  for  the  day's  need.     I  have  no  time 

To  gather  more. 

BEA.     And  does  the  dry  wood  burn 
As  well  as  other  wood? 

LISA.  Oh,  better! 

BEA.  I  see. 

You  would  as  lief,  then,  have  this  wood  you  gather, 
This  dead  wood,  as  a  green  tree  freshly  cut? 

LISA.     Ay,  I  would  liefer  have  it,  Majesty. 
I  need  a  fire  quickly.     I  have  no  time 
To  wait  for  wood  to  season. 


64  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

BEA.  You  may  sit  down, 

Lisa.    Is  the  Duke's  agent  here? 

AGENT.  Ay,  here. 

BEA.     What  is  it  the  Duke's  custom  to  have  done 

With  this  dead  wood  on  his  estate? 

AGENT.  He  burns  it, 

Your  Majesty. 

BEA.  You  mean  to  say,  I  think, 

He  pays  a  price  to  have  it  gathered  and  burned. 

AGENT.    Ay,  Majesty. 

BEA.  Where  is  it  burned? 

AGENT.  In  a  clearing. 

BEA.     And  what  is  cooked  upon  it? 

AGENT.  Nothing  is  cooked. 

The  Duke  is  not  a  gypsy.     [With  irritation.] 

[Pause.]  [Slight  titter  in  court-room,  instantly  hushed 
into  profound  silence.] 

BEA.     [Evenly.]  If  he  were, 

He  would  be  shrewder,  and  not  be  paying  money 

For  what  this  woman  is  glad  to  do  for  naught. 

Nothing  is  cooked,  and  nobody  is  warmed, — 

A  most  unthrifty  fire!     Do  you  bid  the  Duke, 

Until  he  show  me  sounder  cause  for  plaint, 

Permit  this  woman  to  gather  unmolested 

Dead  wood  in  his  forest,  and  bear  it  home. — Lisa, 

Take  care  you  break  no  half-green  boughs. — The  next 
case? 

CLERK.     Is  that  of  Mario,  a  miller,  accused 

Of  stealing  grain.     A  baker,  by  name  Pietro, 

Brings  this  complaint  against  him. 

MESSENGER.     [Rushing  in  and  up  to  throne.]   Majesty, 

Bianca  of  Lagoverde  lies  a-dying, 

And  calls  for  you! 

BEA.     [Rising.]  She  calls  for  me? 

MESSENGER.  Ay,  Majesty. 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  65 

[Beatrice  stands  very  still  a  moment,  then  turns  to  the 
townspeople.] 

BEA.  [Earnestly  and  rapidly.]  You  people,  do  you 
go  now  and  live  kindly 

Till  I  return.    I  may  not  stay  to  judge  you; 
Wherefore  I  set  you  free.    For  I  would  rather 
A  knave  should  go  at  large  than  that  a  just  man 
Be  punished.    If  there  be  a  knave  among  you, 
Let  him  live  thoughtfully  till  I  return. 
[She  steps  down  from  the  throne,  and  is  immediately 
seized  by  the  arm  on  either  side  by  the  two  guards  who 
have  been  standing  beside  the  throne.] 

BEA.     Why,  what  is  this,  Enrico?      [Looking  up  at 
the  soldier  on  her  right.] 
Nay,  it  is  not 

Enrico!  [Looking  to  other  side.]  Nor  is  it  Pablo! 
How  is  this? 

[From  each  side  of  the  stage  one  row  of  the  double 
row  of  soldiers  detaches  itself,  marches  down  around  the 
front  of  the  stage  and  up  towards  the  throne,  making  an 
armed  alley  for  the  Queen  to  walk  down,  and  entirely 
surrounding  the  crowd.]  Nay,  all  new  faces.  So!  Upon 
my  word, 

And  keep  your  fingers  from  me! — I  see  you  there, 
Angelo!     Do  not  turn  your  head  aside! 
And  you,  Filippo! — Is  the  sick  hand  better 
I  bound  the  bandage  on? — Is't  well  enough 
To  draw  a  sword  against  me? — Nay,  I  am  sick. 
I,  that  have  loved  you  as  your  mothers  love  you — 
And  you  do  this  to  me!     Lead  me  away. 
[The  two  guards  lead  out  the  Queen.     Nobody  else 
moves.    The  townspeople  cower  and  stare.    The  two  little 
pages  that  bore  her  train  as  she  entered  remain  back  of 
the  throne,  not  knowing  what  to  do.     As  she  goes  by 
them,  her  train  dragging  on  the  ground,  the  two  ragged 
little  boys  of  Lisa,  the  wood- gatherer,  run  out  from  the 
group  of  citizens,  pick  up  the  ends  of  her  train,  and  go 


66  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell    . 

out,  holding  it  up,  one  of  them  with  his  arm  over  his 
eyes.} 

Scene  3 

[A  dungeon.  Beatrice  alone,  sitting  on  a  bench,  her 
head  bowed  in  her  hands.  Enter  Guido] 

BEA.     Guido,  is't  you! 

GUI.  Ay,  it  is  I,  my  Queen. 

You  sent  for  me,  an  I  mistake  not? 

BEA.  Ay. 

Guido,  you  will  not  keep  me  when  I  tell  you 

Snow-White  is  dying  and  calls  my  name! 

GUI.  I  knew  that. 

BEA.  You  knew  that,  and  you  hold  me  here.  Oh, 
Heaven ! 

What  are  you? 

GUI.  I  am  a  man.    You  should  have  thought 

Of  that  before.    I  could  have  been  your  friend 

If  it  had  pleased  you.     Failing  that,  I  am 

Your  enemy.    I  am  too  aware  of  you, 

And  have  been  ever,  to  hold  me  in  at  less. 

BEA.     Guido.    I  beg  of  you  upon  my  knees 

To  let  me  go! 

GUI.  And  why  should  1  do  that? 

BEA.     For  pity's  sake! 

GUI.  I  do  not  know  the  word. 

BEA.     Then  for  the  sake  of  my  sworn  hand  and  seal 

Upon  a  paper  yielding  fair  to  you 

This  sovereignty  you  prize.    It  is  to  me 

Little  enough  tonight.    I  give  it  gladly. 

GUI.     You  have  no  power  to  give  what  I  have  taken 

Already,  and  hold  upon  my  hand,  Rose-Red. 

BEA.     Oh,  do  not  call  me  that!     Oh,  Guido,  Guido, 

I  cannot  suffer  further!     Let  me  go! 

If  only  for  a  moment,  let  me  go! 

I  will  return, — I  will  but  take  her  hand, 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  67 

And  come  away!     I  swear  it!     Let  me  go! 

GUI.     On  one  condition  only. 

BEA.  Ay!     Tis  granted, 

Ere  it  is  spoken! 

GUI.  That  upon  returning 

You  come  to  me,  and  give  yourself  to  me, 

To  lie  in  my  arms  lovingly.  [She  is  stricken  speech 
less.]  You  hear? 

To  lie  in  my  arms  lovingly. 

BEA.  Oh,  God! 

GUI.     It  is  my  only  word. 

BEA.  Oh,  God!    Oh,  God! 

GUI.     'Tis  granted? 

BEA.  Nay, — I  cannot!     I  will  die 

Instead.    Oh,  God,  to  think  that  she  will  lie  there 

And  call  for  me,  and  I  will  never  come! 

GUI.     Goodnight.     [He  goes  to  door.] 

BEA.     [In  a  quiet  voice.]  Guido! 

It  shall  be  as  you  say. 

GUI.     [Rushing  to  her.]     Ah,  Beatrice! 

BEA.  Nay,  touch  me  not  yet. 

I  will  return.  [She  laughs  like  a  child.]  Why,  'tis  a 
simple  matter! 

I  wonder  now  that  even  for  a  moment 

I  held  myself  so  dear!     When  for  her  sake 

All  things  are  little  things! — This  foolish  body, 

This  body  is  not  I!     There  is  no  I, 

Saving  the  need  I  have  to  go  to  her! 

Scene  4 

[A  room  at  Lagoverde.  Bianca  lying  in  bed,  ill  to 
death.  The  children  clinging  to  the  bed,  their  nurse  try 
ing  to  draw  them  away.  Giuletta^  a  maid,  in  the  back 
ground.  Possibly  other  attendants  about.] 

LITTLE  ROSE-RED.    Tell  us  a  story,  mother! 


68  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

NURSE.  Come  away,  now! 

LITTLE  SNOW-WHITE.    Tell  us  a  story! 

BIA.  Do  you  go  away  with  nurse 

A  little  while.    You  will  bring  them  back  to  me 

Later? 

NURSE.  [Weeping.]  Ay,  madam.  [She  goes  out 
with  the  children.] 

BIA.  Later — not  much  later, 

I  think. — Hear  you  no  sound  of  horses  yet, 

Giulietta,  galloping  this  way? 

Giu.  Nay,  not  yet. 

BIA.  [To  herself.]  I  will  not  go  until  she  comes.  I 
will  not. 

Still,— if  I  should— Giuletta! 

Giu.  [Coming  quickly  to  the  bed.]  Ay,  my 

mistress ! 

BIA.     She  will  come,  I  tell  you! 

Giu.  Ay,  I  doubt  it  not. 

BIA.     Ay,  she  will  come.    But  if  she  should  come  late, 

And  I  no  longer  be  here  to  receive  her, 

Show  her  all  courtesy,  I  conjure  you. 

She  will  be  weary,  and  mightily  distraught. 

Make  her  take  wine, — and  bring  the  children  to  her. 

And  tell  her,  they  are  hers  now.    She  is  their  mother. 

[Giulietta  starts  to  go  back  to  the  window.] 

And  say  to  her — wait! — I  have  a  message  for  her. 

Say  to  her  this,  Giulietta:    The  foot  stumbles, 

The  hand  hath  its  own  awkward  way;  the  tongue 

Moves  foolishly  in  the  mouth;  but  in  the  heart 

The  truth  lies, — and  all's  well  'twixt  her  and  me. 

Can  you  remember  that? 

Giu.  Ay,  madam,  I  think  so. 

If  not  the  words,  at  least  the  gist  of  it. 

BIA.     Forget  it  all,  my  good  child,  but  forget  not: 

All's  well  'twixt  her  and  me. 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  69 

Giu.  Nay,  that  I  have. 

BIA.     I  will  sleep  now  a  little.    Do  you  leave  me. 
But  go  not  far.     [She  lies  still  for  a  moment,  then 
starts  up.] 

I  hear  the  sound  of  hoof -beats! 

Giu.     Nay,  madam. 

BIA.  Ay,  I  tell  you!     I  can  hear  them! 

My  face  upon  the  pillow  brings  my  ear 
Nearer  the  ground!  She  is  coming!  Open  the  door! 
[She  kneels  up  in  bed  and  holds  out  her  arms  towards 
the  door,  maintaining  this  position  till  Beatrice  comes. 
Giulietta,  weeping,  opens  the  door,  and  stands  in  it,  shak 
ing  her  head  sadly.] 

Giu.  [Suddenly  lifting  her  head  and  listening.]  Nay, 
it  is  so!  I  hear  it  now  myself! 

Ay,  there's  a  horse  upon  the  bridge! 

BIA.  She's  coming! 

Stand  back!     Stand  out  of  the  doorway!     [Pause.] 

SERVANT.     [Entering.]  Majesty, 

The  Queen  is  here. 

Ay,  ay!     Stand  out  of  the  doorway!  [Pause.] 

Giu.  She  is  here!  She  is  in  the  court!  She  has 
leapt  from  horse! 

Madam,  Oh,  God  be  praised!    This  way! 

BIA.  Sister! 

[Beatrice  enters  in  her  riding  clothes,  leaps  to  the  bed, 
Bianca  throws  her  arms  about  her  neck,  and  dies.] 

BEA.     [After  a  moment,  looking  down  at  her.] 

Snow- White!  Oh,  no!  Oh,  no!  Snow-White!  [She 
screams.]  Ah-h!  Help  me! 

She  is  dying!  [Attendants  and  nurses  rush  in,  also 
the  children.] 

LITTLE  SNOW-WHITE.     Mother,  wake  up! 

LITTLE  ROSE-RED.  Come  out  of  doors! 


70  The  Lamp  and  the  Bell 

BEA.     Take  them  away.    Snow- White!     {Leaning  over 
the  bed.] 

NURSE.     Nay,  it  is  over, 
Madam. 

BEA.  Leave  me.     Leave  me  alone  with  her. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Beatrice.     She  kneels  beside  the  bed.] 

Scene  5 
[A  room  at  Lagoverde.   The  next  day.  Beatrice  alone.] 

BEA.     In  sooth,  I  do  not  feel  the  earth  so  firm 
Under  my  feet  as  yesterday  it  was. 
All  that  I  loved  are  gone  to  a  far  land  , 
And  left  me  here  alone,  save  for  two  children 
And  twenty  thousand  enemies,  and  the  thing 
Of  horror  that's  in  store  for  me.    Almost 
I  feel  my  feet  uprooted  from  the  earth, 
There's  such  a  tugging  at  me  to  be  gone. 
Save  for  your  children,   [Looking  off  stage  towards 
Bianca's  room.]  'twould  be  simple  enough 
To  lay  me  down  beside  you  in  your  bed, 
And  call  on  Death,  who  is  not  yet  out  of  hearing, 
To  take  me,  too.     [Enter  Fidelio.] 

FID.  Mistress  I  have  news  for  you. 

Guido  is  dead! 

BEA.  Is  dead? 

FID.  Ay,  he  is  dead. 

Dead  of  a  dagger  i'  the  back, — and  dead  enough 

For  twenty.    Scarce  were  you  gone  an  hour's  time 

We  came  upon  him  cold.    And  in  a  pool 

Nearby,  the  Lady  Francesca  floating  drowned, 

Who  last  was  seen  a-listening  like  a  ghost 

At  the  door  of  the  dungeon.     'Tis  a  marvelous  thing! 

But  that's  not  all ! 

BEA.  Why,  what  more  can  there  be? 

FID.     Mistress,  in  the  night  the  people  of  Fiori 

Rose  like  a  wind  and  swept  the  Duke's  men  down 


The  Lamp  and  the  Bell  71 

Like  leaves!    Your  throne  is  empty, — and  awaits  you! 
[Enter  Giulietta.] 
Giu.     Madam. 

BEA.  Ay,  Giulietta. 

Giu.  Madam,  last  night, 

Before  you  came,  she  bade  me  tell  you  something, 
And  not  forget.    Tis  this:     That  the  foot  stumbles, 
The  hand  doth  awkward  things,  and  the  foolish  tongue 
Says  what  it  would  not  say, — but  in  the  heart 
Truth  lies, — and  all  is  well  'twixt  her  and  you.     [She 
starts  to  go  out,  and  turns  back  at  the  door.] 
She  bade  me  above  all  things  to  forget  not 
The  last:  that  all  is  well  'twixt  her  and  you.     [Exit.] 
BEA.     [Slowly  and  with  great  content.] 
She  is  not  gone  from  me.     Oh,  there  be  places 
Farther  away  than  Death!     She  is  returned 
From  her  long  silence,  and  rings  out  above  me 
Like  a  silver  bell ! — Let  us  go  back,  Fidelio, 
And  gather  up  the  fallen  stones,  and  build  us 
Another  tower. 

CURTAIN 


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